Grounded In Trenton
by dydrmblevr
Summary: Stephanie gets into trouble at the Newark airport and has to stay home while her friends and family leave town on a Caribbean Cruise.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own these character or make any money from them. **

**This is the first chapter of a long story still in progress. I have about 25,000 words so far. **

Chapter 1

Steph's Point of View

Today, Friday at three o'clock I was supposed to be flying to Puerto Rico for a 7-day Caribbean cruise. Margaret Molnar had hit it big on a lottery ticket she'd purchased at Delio's Exxon and to celebrate her upcoming 35th Wedding Anniversary she and her husband were taking friends and family on an all-expense-paid Caribbean cruise. Margaret's guest list included all of the original wedding party, friends of the family, and relatives-at-large. This included my parents, my sister, and me.

My name is Stephanie Plum and I am a bond enforcement agent for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. If you've ever seen the show Dog the Bounty Hunter, well, that's close to what I do, except I don't have the tattoos, or the leather chain clothing, or the mullet. Nope, I'm pretty much an average Burg girl from Jersey, I have a "thing" about my hair, I like my bras to match my panties, and I almost never leave home without my pocketbook, although I have found myself in a few situations without my panties.

Usually I do my job fairly well. I find the bad guys, I chase the bad guys, I cuff the bad guys, and deliver them to the police station. But not always in that order. I catch most of my skips by the second or third try, and I haven't had anything explode around me - lately. Thinking about it, I guess the incident that ended my travel plans last week was destined to happen. One minute I was chasing a skip at the Newark Airport, and before I knew it, I was in a locked room being grilled by a buzz-cut from Homeland Security.

Apparently, carrying Sure Guard without a handling permit gets you a third degree criminal possession of a weapon charge. And also apparently, carrying Sure Guard when jumping over a TSA security checkpoint at the airport gets you a third degree land-your-ass-in-jail-without bond charge. It didn't matter that Marlon Whittaker had been charged with sexual assault on a minor, then decided to skip his court date, or that he had booked a trip to Thailand with a travel company specializing in under-age "escort" services.

By law, I had the right to stop, subdue, and transport an FTA to jail, and under normal circumstance, the TSA would think the FTA was a slime sucking piece of scum they didn't want flying their friendly skies. But there are certain regulations that even a bond enforcement agent can't fudge; Military Grade Nerve Gas was one of these regulations.

I knew the moment the canister of Sure Guard fell from my pocket as I was leaping over the x-ray conveyor belt, I was screwed. Luckily Tank had seen the whole thing and the big guy was able to negotiate terms that didn't include me being taken into custody on the spot.

To avoid arrest and a mandatory jail sentence, I agreed to hand over my passport and have my name appear on a "no fly" list for 6 months. The end result, no cruise, no air travel, and a new Bounty Hunter Blooper video making the rounds on YouTube. I had already had a few other videos posted by gawkers who used their cell phones cameras or business security cameras. The way my luck was going, I was in danger of getting my own Bounty Hunter Blooper channel. At 300,000 hits, I had achieved "feature" status on a video of me tackling a skip on the ice during the second intermission of a Ranger's match at the Garden.

It all went south last Friday, when I went to the Bonds office to pick up some files. Vinnie met me at the door.

"Steph, where the hell have you been, I've been calling you? That fucker Marlon Whittaker is headed to the Newark airport to board a plane for Thailand! His bail was set a half a mil, you know what that means?" It means Vinnie got paid 50,000 to put his ass on the line for half a million, and whoever caught the skip got twenty-five-thousand dollars.

"Isn't he Ranger's bond?" I asked.

"Yes, but Ranger is headed back to town and he won't be here in time. Tank is close to the airport but he doesn't have the required paperwork. And ya know those fuckin feds have to have their paperwork in order. If you get this file to Tank in time you can split their end. It's twenty-five big ones." Vinnie looked desperate.

I grabbed the file, sprinted to my Nissan Altima and gunned it for Newark. I had twelve-thousand-five-hundred reason to get to the airport fast. I abandoned my car in the white zone pulled into short-term parking and dashed across the street to the terminal. I had my shoulder bag in one hand and the file in the other as I made my way through the mass of travelers and toward gate B27.

As I approached the security checkpoint I saw Marlon getting ready to take off his shoes and put them on the conveyor belt. He happened to glance up and he locked eyes with me. I saw the look of recognition on his face before he sprinted through the metal detector toward an unguarded gate.

My instincts took over and I hauled ass through the little belt barriers used to corral the line. When I reached the x-ray conveyor belt, I leaped onto the stack of grey tote trays and launched myself into the air, over the x-ray conveyor belt like an Olympic hurdler. I had almost cleared the security area when I felt my foot catch on the x-ray box. I went down hard on my left knee and rolled a few times toward Marlon. I could see Tank out of my peripheral vision, and I slid the file five yards across the polished tile floor with all my might. Tank grinned and caught it under his foot. He had Marlon cuffed, and on his belly in no time. It was then that I heard the canister rolling around on the floor. "Shit." I rolled on my back and found myself staring up at four gun barrels.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own these characters or make any money off of them.**

**I know who you are waiting for, so I added two chapters so the man in black can make his appearance. In the next few chapters there's a lot of background info to set up the story, but I promise MIB will be featured later.**

**Chapter 2**

**Steph's Point of View**

Mary Lou Molnar (Stankovich) has been my best friend since childhood. She and I have gotten along since the first day of Kindergarten, in part because we loved the same foods, we _never_ liked the same guys, and we both absolutely hated Joyce Barnhardt. When you're Italian, nothing bonds you together like a personal vendetta against a common enemy.

Before the Marlon Whittaker fiasco, Mary Lou and I had been looking forward to going on the cruise together. Her mother has more or less handed over all of the planning to Mary Lou and myself. One-hundred-thirty-seven Invitations were sent, reservations were made and tickets were mailed out. This was going to be an event to remember. Six nights and seven days aboard the Royal Caribbean cruise ship Jewel of the Seas. The cruise departed from San Juan and made stops in the Virgin Islands, St. Martin, St Lucia, and Antiqua.

Together we had booked all of the island activities and arranged for transportation to and from the beaches and restaurants. Wednesday night the entire Molnar party would be staying at a resort on Antiqua. The resort banquet hall had been reserved, their caterer hired, and a local band was booked. Father Ignatius would officiate the ceremony when Margaret and Anthony renewed their wedding vows. No expense has been spared. It seemed everyone I knew was going.

O.K., not _everyone_ I knew was going. My grandma Mazur wasn't going. I suspected this had to do with her reputation for being somewhat of a troublemaker. It's true she once opened a closed casket at Stiva's funeral home, and she tended to carry a concealed .38, even firing it on occasion. And yes, she had been known to pinch a fine man's ass, or two, if the opportunity presented itself, who can blame her!

I guess Margaret knew full well that Edna Mazur had the potential to cause an international incident. And since the cruise departed from Puerto Rico, Margaret was taking no chances. My mother also was taking no chances. She had made it clear that I would never eat her pineapple up-side-down cake again if my grandma ended up on the Trenton Police blotter.

My grandma and I were sort of alike in the way that trouble seemed to find us, so I was just a little concerned when Grandma declared that "if she couldn't go to the Caribbean, she would bring the Caribbean to her." I think her plan involved rum and Latino men, but I wasn't sure. Just to be safe, I had asked a few of my friends on the police force to alert me if anything suspicious happened within a one-mile radius of my parents' house.

Grandma had moved in with my parents shortly after Grandpa Mazur had gone to the big Pork Roast in the sky. My dad had been sharing a bathroom with my Grandmother ever since she took over my sister Val's bedroom upstairs. This trip would mark the longest period in my father's recent memory when he wouldn't wake up and see Grandma's false teeth in his bathroom. No matter what happened, I had to handle Grandma for the week.

I was a little surprised that none of the Morelli's had been invited. Angie and Jack Morelli had been guests at Margaret's wedding 35 years ago, and Margaret's father never let her forget that inviting the Morelli clan had doubled the open bar tab. Angie's son, Joe Morelli, who had effectively ended our relationship a few months ago, wouldn't have gone anyway. The Trenton P.D. was suffering yet another wave of budget cuts and the chief had put a hold on all non-essential time off.

Ranger also was not going, not that he ever qualified for the guest list. For one, he was not from The Burg. Two, he had never even met Margaret Molnar, and three, he was not Italian. Carlos "Ranger" Manoso was Cuban and an ex-military Army Ranger. He stood half a head taller then me, his biceps were the size of my thighs, and he had a body that looked like it was carved out of butterscotch granite. Still, I include him in my "friends not going list" because, next to Mary Lou and Eddie, he is my best friend, and next to Joe, he is the closest thing I have to a boyfriend. In fact, after my off-again stage with Joe hit the 6-week mark, I wondered why Ranger hadn't at least tried for a booty-call since, in the past, he had made some not-so-veiled threats about what would happen if my bed went empty for too long.

Friday, May 17th had finally arrived. Funny how I had looked forward to this day for months, and now that it was here, all I wanted to do was cry. I had taped a calendar with a photo of a cruise ship to the front my refrigerator to encourage healthy eating so I wouldn't look like a broken can of biscuits in my bikini. The seventeenth had a huge red bulls-eye drawn around it and every day leading up to today had been crossed off with a big "X," until this past Saturday. I scowled at the calendar as I ripped if from the frige. My three months of planning lay crumpled in a ball on my kitchen floor.

Most of my day had gone that way. When I heard a commercial for Isle of Capri Casinos I broke the knob turning off the radio. I saw a Bacardi Dark Rum ad in Cosmo and hiked it down the garbage chute, even before I could peel open the free perfume sample thingy. I plopped down on my sofa and the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD mocked me from the bookshelf.

As I drove down Hamilton toward Blessed Sacrament School a few tears of self-pity welled up in my eyes. I was still having a hard time dealing with the realization that my sixty dollar Brazilian wax job wasn't gonna be sitting on a white sandy beach, Mojito in hand, soaking up the warm Caribbean sun. "Damn it," I said to myself, "put on your big girl pants and snap out of it." I wiped my runny nose on my sleeve, hiccupped, and took a deep breath. It was three o'clock and I would be picking up my nieces soon. I couldn't let them see me this way.

I made the turn off Hamilton and onto Puritan Avenue when my phone buzzed in the cup holder.

"Hello," I said, stifling a sniffle.

"Oh, hello, Miss Estephanie, it's Leta," said a sweet accented voice.

"Oh hi, is every thing O. K., you didn't have a problem with the boarding pass did you?"

"Oh no, I just wanted to call and say thank you again for the ticket, and I promise I will help Miss Valerie with baby Lisa. It will be just like their second honeymoon. You are such an Angel, I can't wait to see my hermana, we are meeting at the pier tomorrow."

I gave my head a little shake no, "Please Leta, have fun, and take lots of photos. When you return I want you to tell me all about it."

A bittersweet smile passed my lips and I hung up. I had been sincere when I told Leta to have a good time with _my_ ticket on _my_ trip that _I _had looked forward to since February. At least someone would benefit from my loss. After all, it wasn't her fault that all hell broke loose at the Newark airport and I was deemed "ineligible" for air travel. My mother was right about one thing, nothing good happens in Newark, not after midnight, not as a lingerie buyer, not at the airport, not ever.

Prior to Saturday's tragic event, Leta Sanchez was going to be babysitting my two nieces while the rest of our family did the bunny hop with Captain Steubbing and Gopher on the Aloha deck. Now, she was flying to San Juan to board the Grand Caribbean Jewel of the Seas and I was on nanny duty. Considering all the shit she had gone through, It was only logical she go in my place.

Seven years ago Leta and her husband emigrated to the U.S. from Puerto Rico. The first time I laid eyes on her I was staring at her photo from a FTA file at the Bonds office. One of the first things my mentor taught me was to not get emotionally involved with the skips. "And you've got no business making judgments," he told me. "Just do your job and bring the man in. Got to trust in the system." And of course I ALWAYS listen to Ranger. Yeah, right, we all know I didn't take that advice. I ended up trading saliva with my first skip and it has been a series of misadventures ever since.

I used my search programs at Rangeman and discovered Leta Sanchez and I had two things in common: we both had assholes for ex-husbands, and we both knew she didn't belong in jail. After we got her legal troubles cleared she took a job with my sister Valerie as a nanny. I knew she could not afford to travel home. It only seemed right that she should go in my place and I should watch the girls instead. Her sister worked for the cruise line and she was joining her in San Juan.

My ex had merely fucked Joyce Barnhardt on my dining room table, but Leta's ex, he took evil to a new level. He somehow gave himself a black eye, then falsely accusing her of assault and battery. Officer Gaspick fell for the scam and arrested her. When her court date approached, her ex kidnapped Leta so she would miss the hearing and turn up FTA.

Lucky for her, I was hungry that week. I was late on my rent, my car was about to break down, and I was fresh out of donut money. She was the only skip in my folder, and I wasn't going to stop until I found her. And find her I did, and her asshole ex-husband Herbie. He was holding her in a sleazy hotel off of Stark Street. She had been beaten, gagged and cuffed to the bed frame, from the looks of her protruding ribs, she hadn't eaten in awhile.

Her case was one of the few where I had actually called for back up. I usually worked alone and hated putting other lives at risk. But my gun was nestled in my cookie jar at home, and I only had my dad's bowling trophy on hand. Also, I had an ace-in-the-hole when it came to taking down physically abusive, roid-shooting, macho assholes – my friend Lula.

Lula worked at the Bonds office, but in a past life she had strutted her stuff on a corner of Stark Street and made her living the old-fashioned way. The week I met her, she was beaten and left for dead by the sociopathic boxer Benito Ramirez. So now, when it came to domestic violence, Lula was a bull, and Herbie Battista was about to become her target. What I hadn't known was Tank had been sitting next to Lula when my call came in. He's as big as an ox and as nosy as any woman. His trained military ear had picked up all the details of our conversation, and in 20 minutes, I had Lula and two weapon-clad mercenaries ready to assist me and my bowling trophy.

After breaking down the hotel room door, Lula went into full Rhino mode. She pointed for me to help Leta. Then she turned on Battista and went a little Rambo on his ass. She pistol whipped him, kicked him in the balls with her Manolo Blahnic pointy toe pumps, and cuffed him so hard his hands turned purple. He slid to a sitting position at her feet.

"Seems you're under a citizen's arrest for harboring a fugitive mothafuckah, your ex-wife is wanted." She kicked him in the ribs. "Looks like she's bleeding too, so I guess we gonna get ya for assault." Her elbow came down on his head. "Looks like you took her by force, that's abduction." Her heel came down on his hand. "You're gonna wish YOU had been abducted by aliens when I'm through with your sorry ass. Why is it always the little pencil dick fuckers that don't get it? NO means NO."

Before Leta was released from the hospital we had straightened out the paperwork and cleared her of all charges. My friend Hal had visited her at St. Francis every day. He and his associates exacted a little vigilante justice on Leta's ex. I wish I could have seen the look on Herbie Battista's face when he woke up in Puerto Barrios without any money, documents, and a name that had been flagged as a fugitive from justice. Note to self, NEVER piss off Hal.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own these characters of make money off of them.**

**Chapter 3**

**Steph's Point of View**

I pulled my Sentra into the pick-up lane outside the Catholic Elementary School, put the car in park and rolled down my windows. I was a little early, so I decided to look over the plans I had thrown together for my week with the girls.

Enough feeling sorry for myself. As long as I was stuck in Trenton, I was going to make the best of it. This week was going to include a slumber party, the beach, Ghostbusters, and lots of Tasty Cakes.

I liked spending time with the girls at Val and Albert's house. When it was just the three of us, we would drink hot chocolate and play games, or sometimes watch a movie. Tonight the plan was an early dinner at Pino's, then to their house to watch Homeward Bound, and as always, I would swear the girls to secrecy, then break open the Tasty Cakes and Cheese doodles.

The bell rung and I saw Mary Alice exit the school and head toward the pick-up area where I was idling in the not-brown-but-not-green car. Actually, as my cars go, this one didn't look half bad, with the exception of the cherry-red hood that had been pulled from some salvage yard near the interstate to replace the original after some accident of unknown origin. The seven-year-old Mary Alice did a little skip step to the car and tossed her Wonder Woman backpack into the open window and climbed into the back seat.

"Hi Aunt Steffie, did you bring the Tasty cakes?"

"Yes."

"Movies?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Rex?"

"We're picking him up from my apartment."

"O.K. just checking." I couldn't help but smile, the kid had her priorities straight.

I was tapping my fingers to a Kid Rock song when I saw Angie emerge from the building. She was 3 years older than Mary Alice and her polar opposite. Angie wanted to make her grandmother's coffee cake and the honor roll. Mary Alice wanted to pilot Wonder Woman's invisible Jet.

I sat up when I noticed Angie walking cautiously, looking over her shoulder. There were three girls standing outside the doorway, and I thought one of them had hurled a comment toward Angie. The girls were snickering and laughing about something and Angie hung her head a little, held her book bag tightly to her chest, and made a quick beeline to the car.

Angie slid into the back seat next to Mary Alice, ducked down, and ordered, "Go, now, let's get out of here!" I casually pretended to check my phone for messages as I snapped a photo of the gaggle of girls.

"O.K., O.K., hey, so how was your day?" I asked. Angie didn't answer but Mary Alice took that as an open invitation, "Well," she started "we finished reading our reports on _places we'd like to visit_. Ryan Buziac did his on Portugal and Elise Romano talked about going to Italy to see some naked statues."

"And, where did you want to visit?" I asked.

"The Planet Krypton."

Angie snarled at Mary Alice, "Krypton is not a real place dummy, even if it had been, it was blown up in the first movie!"

"Angie!" did I just hear St. Valerie the Second raise her voice? What had gotten into her?

I pulled into the lot behind my apartment building and we all piled out. Mrs. Bestler rode us up in the elevator and gave the girls both a stick of gum. When we walked into the apartment Rex was shacked up in his soup can. Mary Alice found a cracker and tried to coax him out of his lair. I grabbed enough clothes for a week, make-up and shampoo, my entire stash of Tasty Cakes, and a few other non-necessities. I stuffed them in a backpack and headed for the kitchen.

I hesitated at the sight of my cookie jar and wondered if I should stash my gun or leave it in my purse. I would be staying at Val's house and I would be with the girls. I felt uncomfortable enough having the gun around me, I wasn't sure how I felt about it with kids in the house. At the last second I decided to leave it in my purse and find a secure hiding spot for it when I got to Val's. If it weren't for Ranger making it a part of my contract agreement, I wouldn't be carrying it at all this week.

The girls walked into the hallway and I was backing out of the door when my eye caught something in my kitchen and I froze. Taped to the refrigerator was the calendar I had crumpled up and left on the floor earlier. I quickly locked the door and ushered the girls to my car. As soon as I put the car in gear the door locks engaged and I let out a sigh as we pulled from the parking lot. Someone had been in my apartment, the question was, friend or foe? My right hand rested on my purse as I turned onto Hamilton.

Next stop was the bonds office where Connie had a check waiting for me. I called ahead to make sure Vinnie had his pants zipped up and all barnyard animals were contained to his office. We pulled up to the curb and parked behind Ranger's black Porsche Turbo.

I turned to the girls, "O.K. we are going into where I work. Don't touch anything. You know Lula and Connie and cousin Vinnie.

"Eewww, cousin Vinnie," both girls chimed in unison. "He always smells like onions, and his hands are sweaty."

"Just say hi, and be polite, if he tries to touch you, just start coughing and move away." Oh my God I sounded like my mother.

Angie and I came in two steps behind the fearless Mary Alice. She had already burst through the door and was running up to Lula and Connie squealing about our big plans for the week. "And we are going to watch movies, play ponies, and Aunt Steffie said she would try to braid my hair," "Did she now, girlfriend, sounds like you are in for a whole lotta fun" said Lula.

Connie gave Angie a hug and let her peruse her drawer of nail polish. "Pick a few out, sweetie, you can borrow them for the week." "Thanks, Connie." Angie got some pink, red, and blue bottles.

Connie gave me the check and I told her I wouldn't be going after skips until next Saturday. The girls were busy talking to Lula about her hair beads, so I took out my phone and showed Connie the photo of the girls from school.

"Know any of these girls?" Connie sucked in her cheeks in a sour face, "They were giving Angie the evil eye at school today," I said.

"Not surprised, that skinny one there is Mooch's girl, but she calls Bucky Seidler dad, and he don't know any better. The mousy one lives with her grandma, Carla Turkevich, cause her mom is doin' time in Clinton. And the tall one in the middle," Connie squinted her eyes at me "take a good look Steph, add a few pounds and red hair."

My mouth fell open and I gasped. "How?"

"First cousin, once removed," Connie said.

Shit, she's related to Joyce Barnhardt.

"Yes, they call her Josie, and from what I hear that poisoned apple didn't fall far from the tree." Connie circled her finger around and tapped a red spiky nail at the phone screen for emphasis. "That's a trouble trifecta right there."

Just then Vinnie's office door opened and Vinnie and Ranger strolled out. Vinnie said hello to the girls and they huddled in closer to Lula and started coughing. Ranger's lips tipped and he slid up behind me. "Babe." "Ranger." "Kid patrol?" "Yep, all week, until next Saturday." Ranger looked like he wanted to tell me something, but instead he cleared his throat and looked to Connie, "Excuse me ladies, Connie, I'm going to need the files on Jimenez and Porto" "Sure thing" she said, turning to the cabinet.

Angie and Mary Alice both looked at Ranger and their eyes went directly to his gun holster. "Is that a real gun?" asked Angie.

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

"No."

Mary Alice walked over to him and pointed to the little pouch on the side of his belt. He looked down and crossed his arms. "What's in there?" asked Mary Alice.

"Handcuffs"

"Are you a policeman?"

"Bond Enforcement Agent"

"How do you know my Aunt Steffie." Oh shit.

"What makes you think I know her?"

"You smiled when you saw her" He shifted ever so slightly, taking a more appraising stance. Now I was getting nervous, what would she ask next?

"What's your name?" asked Mary Alice.

"Ranger."

"How did you get here?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Drove."

"Darn, I was thinking you were like the _LONE_ Ranger and rode a horse. Do you have a horse?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Yea, my mom says that." He chuckled aloud.

Oh my God, it's the cute-with-kids Ranger, who would have thought. Connie and Lula were smiling at Mary Alice for bravely taking on the mighty Manoso. Damn, I thought, Mary Alice just got him to say more in 30 seconds than he sometimes says in a whole day. Connie handed Ranger the files and he turned to leave, "Ladies, Miss Plum," he looked down at Mary Alice and they locked eyes for a second, and I couldn't tell from my angle, but I swear I saw him wink at her. Mary Alice saluted, then turned and galloped across the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own or make money from these characters.**

**(End of Chapter 3)**

**Oh my God, it's the cute-with-kids Ranger, who would have thought. Connie and Lula were smiling at Mary Alice for bravely taking on the mighty Manoso. Damn, I thought, Mary Alice just got him to say more in 30 seconds than he sometimes says in a whole day. Connie handed Ranger the files and he turned to leave, "Ladies, Miss Plum," he looked down at Mary Alice and they locked eyes for a second, and I couldn't tell from my angle, but I swear I saw him wink at her. Mary Alice saluted, then turned and galloped across the room. **

Chapter 4

Steph's Point of View

It was 5:30 when the girls and I settled down at Pino's. There were some tables of guys leftover from the Friday afternoon bunch, mostly cops and blue-collar workers who had come straight from their jobs to get a head-start on their weekends. I recognized a few off-duty officers at a large table in the corner. My friend Carl Costanza was holding court and a familiar Italian profile sat across from him with his back to us.

We ordered a large half cheese, half sausage and black olive, breadsticks, extra sauce and lemon aids all around. Joe Morelli got up from his posse and sauntered up to our table. His long graceful fingers were tucked into his front pockets and a little smiled played on his face as he approached. His six-foot frame scooted its way into the bench beside me. He smelled faintly of Budweiser and Barbasol. He was sporting a sexy five o'clock shadow and his tousled brown hair gave him a boyish innocence I knew was long gone. His jeans were faded in all the right places and his tweed sport coat revealed a little of his gun holster.

"Hello Cupcake," he smiled, "what do we have here, a little girls night out?" He looked intently at Angie and Mary Alice, while his right had crept under the table and up my thigh.

I did a mental eye-roll and dug my fingernails into his wrist to stop his hand's pursuit.

I had finally called it quits with Joe a while ago. He had been telling me he was on a big case in Newark trying to find out who had been manufacturing fake credit cards. The stake out, he told me, would be taking several nights and he was close to finding the mastermind.

What Joe didn't know was that my friend Rhonda Tegler, who I had known from my days working in Newark, managed a hotel there. Rhonda had invited me to lunch at Piccola Italia, the hotel restaurant. While I was sipping a crisp Pinot Grigio picking the good stuff off the anti-pasta plate I saw Joe walk by with a tall black-haired vixen hanging all over him. I was well hidden from the array of plants surrounding the dining area, but he was out in the open making no attempt to ward off her hands. They were holding hands and kissing while they disappeared into the elevator.

Before the smart, sensible me could act, the impulsive, reckless me had Rhonda behind the counter making a key card for room 742. I remember opening the door and seeing Joe with his hand down the floozie's pants, other hand behind her head pulling her into a lip-lock.

"What the hell are you doing," I screamed at Joe from the open door. The pair jerked apart and looked at me wide-eyed, but a slow smile spread across the skank's face and she crossed her arms and settled in for the show. I was turning on my heels to leave, before I did something _really_ stupid, when Joe ran over to me and pulled me into the bathroom.

"It's not what you think," he said in hushed tones, "I'm trying to extract information."

"With what, your tongue?"

I wanted to believe him, but I knew the situation wasn't right.

"Hey, c'mon, besides, you had your thing with Rambo, and I let it slide. When this case is over she's leaving town, she's history."

After that, it was all a blur. I remember clothes flying off the balcony and running to my car with my stun gun in my hand.

For days I avoided Joe's phone calls and didn't answer my door when I saw him through the peephole. I waited until he was at work one day, then went to his house and cleared out all of my possessions. One week later he cornered me at the Bonds Office.

"So, when are you gonna forgive me so we can move past this? I miss you," he said.

"I'll call you when I'm ready," I said. And that was it.

That night Connie, Lula, and I went out and got rip-roaring drunk. Miraculously, the next day I didn't feel too bad. When I saw Joe after that, I just said hello and kept walking. Despite all that had happened, I could tell Joe thought I would forgive him and we would get back together, or at least settle on a friends-with-benefits arrangement. So here we were sitting at Pino's with Joe's hand on my thigh.

Angie chirped up, "Aunt Steph's staying with us while our parents are out of town. And tonight, we're having a slumber party." At the mention of slumber party his hand squeezed my leg enthusiastically.

"Oh, that sounds like fun, so when do you want me there?"

The girls spoke in unison, "no boys allowed!"

"Well, that doesn't seem fair," he said, pretending to be offended. I just gave him an eye roll and moved his hand off my knee. Angie and Mary Alice giggled at his teasing.

"We are doing secret girl stuff you wouldn't like, Uncle Joe, like paint our toe nails and braid our hair," smiled Angie.

"Alright," he conceded loudly. "I know when I'm not wanted."

He tweaked Angie's nose, ruffled Mary Alice's hair and before he left he bent down and whispered in my ear, "What time do you think they will go to bed? I could come over and relieve the babysitter." Hmmm, I knew what kind of "relief" he was referring to. Just like high school, I thought.

Morelli had once been caught feeling up Constance Trivolli when she was babysitting for Louie "The Ratchet" LaRasso. Louie had taken his wife to a dinner party and had planned to leave his wife Carol at the party so he could return to his house and see if Constance was interested in providing other "services." But when he got home, little Joey Morelli had Constance horizontal on the sofa with his tongue probing her back molars.

"That reminds me," I said before he turned to leave, "whatever happened with you and Louie the Ratchet?" A look of fear crossed Joe's face, no doubt remembering the incident that had become Burg legend.

"Oh my God, I never ran so fast in my life. I forgot my bike was leaning against the back of the house. Next day, Louie had my bike in the display window of Dipalo's."

"Did you get it back?" I asked.

"Yea, I waited till Thursday, then went with Grandma Bella to Dipalo's to get her pot roast. She looked at the bike, she looked at Louie, then she told me to take the bike and go home. Three days later Louie turned states evidence and entered the Witness Protection Program." We both thought on that for a moment. "Gotta go Cupcake. I'm just on a dinner break, working a big case. See ya round," he hollered back at the girls "have fun, and don't stay up too late." He waved his hand over his head and left.

Our lemon-aide and breadsticks had arrived and I was about to dig in when Carl Costanza walked over to our table with a troubled look on his face. Carl and I had made First Communion together back in second grade. I often ran into him at the Police Department when I was dropping off an FTA or picking up a body receipt. If I needed information and Eddie wasn't around I went to Carl. I could afford the price of his services, coffee and Boston Cremes.

"Steph," uh oh, he was using his cop voice.

"What's up Carl?"

"A 911 call just came in from your house." Please not a fire, please not a fire.

"It's probably just Mr. Kleinschidt smoking in bed again," I assured.

"No Steph, your _parent's_ house." Please not Grandma, please not Grandma.

"That's all I know, do you need a ride?"

I jumped up and threw some bills on the table. "Bernie, I need that pie to go!" I told the girls to grab their drinks and we headed for the door. I speed-dialed my mom's number and got no answer. We hustled into the car, buckled in and sped off. I tried calling again, but still no answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own or make money off these characters.**

**"A 911 call just came in from your house." Please not a fire, please not a fire.**

**"It's probably just Mr. Kleinschidt smoking in bed again," I assured.**

**"No Steph, your ****_parent's_**** house." Please not Grandma, please not Grandma.**

**"That's all I know, do you need a ride?"**

**I jumped up and threw some bills on the table. "Bernie, I need that pie to go!" I told the girls to grab their drinks and we headed for the door. I speed-dialed my mom's number and got no answer. We hustled into the car, buckled in and sped off. I tried calling again, but still no answer. **

Chapter 5

Steph's Point of View

I pulled to the curb and the ambulance and a police car pulled in behind me. I didn't wait to talk to them, I told the girls to stay in the car and eat the pizza. I waved at Carl and pointed at the girls, he nodded. Before I reached the front door I could hear loud Latin music blaring, once inside I could see Grandma was on the floor on the other side of the dining room table. The table had been pushed back and two margarita glasses sat empty.

Granny strained her neck up to me, "Stephanie, when did you get here?" I sunk to my knees and did a visual assessment, "What's wrong, where does it hurt, what happened?"

Grandma smiled and held her hand in the stop position. "I'm fine Steph, Manuel had come over for my dance lesson, and." Just then the music faded and a voice came from the kitchen

"Edna, sweetie, sorry to leave ya, but I had to dig for these," he said, shaking a large bag of peas, "I think your daughter is stocking up for Armageddon by the looks of that freezer down there."

I looked up to see a dapper Latino man emerging from the kitchen. He was sexy like Ricky Martin and was dressed like Andre 3000. He had on some formfitting mustard chinos, a blue short-sleeved polo and black suspenders. He sported a gold hoop in each ear and woven leather penny loafers with no socks.

He placed the peas on grandma's hip, "see if this helps, darling." He extended a lithe hand to me. "Manuel Vivanco, you must be Stephanie." By this time two EMT's had come in and were kneeling down to assess Grandma, Manuel and I moved out of their way.

"What happened?" I asked Manuel.

Grandma piped up, "Manuel was showing me some of them Latin dance moves, you know I already got them beginner moves down and I was working up to the Samba. It's just like doing the Pony, but a very sexy Pony."

Manuel nodded, "Edie was doing fabulous, she has the Merengue and the Rhumba down cold. But she wanted something a little faster so we were working on a little Samba step, then during a heel toe kick the caboose came loose and London Bridge came falling down."

"I gotta get that move down on accounta I have a date with big Jim Marasco next Friday. The men in his retirement community have been droppin like flies and the sharks are circling, I gotta stake my claim if ya know what I mean."

We let the EMT's finish their business. They secured Grandma to the gurney and wheeled her out the front door. I followed them out and saw that Carl had the girls on the hood of his car sharing the rest of the pizza. A black Porsche Cayenne SUV pulled up across the street and one fine black-clad Cuban stepped out.

Despite her condition, Grandma cranked her neck to watch Ranger walk across the street. "You musta called UPS, cause it looks like your package just arrived," said Grandma.

He crossed the street and assessed the gathering.

He nodded his head to Costanza, "Carl."

"Manoso."

I was a little surprised when he greeted Manuel "Sup, Miki?"

"Ricardo, what a pleasure."

"You two know each other?" I asked Ranger.

"He went to school with my sister, they used to do each other's nails."

Ranger turned to me, "What happened to Grandma?"

My eyes were ping-ponging from Ranger to the girls, to Manual and to the Ambulance.

"Hip, I think, she needs an x-ray." I had to get to the hospital and take care of Grandma but two disappointed faces stared up at me.

"Aunt Steffie, what about our party?"

I looked to Carl, "What about the girls at the bonds office?" he asked."

"Connie's taking night classes, and Lula, well, I trust her, by my sister would probably blow a gasket."

As if things weren't bad enough, Joyce Barnhardt had arrived and was hovering around the paramedics asking grandma all kinds of questions.

"Oh crap, I musta died and gone to hell," said Grandma, "on account of Satan's sent one of his henchmen to collect me." Grandma turned on the gurney and winked at me.

"Ms. Mazur," started Joyce, "I represent Scudder and Surry law offices. Tell me, was this injury due to the negligence of a business or contracted person?"

"Joyce, what do you want?" I asked.

"I don't want nuthin, I am here to provide a desired community service." I remembered hearing that Joyce was working for Scudder and Surry law firm as an ambulance chaser. If the injured party signed on with the firm and sued, Joyce got a percentage of the settlement. Probably she was only doing it to supplement her other income she earned from selling babies on the black market. I don't know that for sure, but I do know NOTHING is beneath Joyce, except usually someone else's husband.

"Buzz off Joyce, this is not the time, I have to get Grandma to the Hospital."

I saw a light flash across Joyce's face. "So what are you doing with the chickletts?" she indicated the girls. "I'll watch em for ya."

Carl, Grandma, and even the EMT's sucked in air at Joyce's offer. She was definitely up to something and I wasn't gonna let my innocent nieces be any part of it.

"No thanks," thinking she certainly _would_ be the type to eat her young.

"No really," she pushed, "My cousin's kid, Josie is coming over later. She's in Angela's class. Josie's a huge fan of the Kloughn girls.

My eyes narrowed and I wondered how much Joyce knew about Josie's treatment of Angie. I also didn't like the way she emphasized their not-legal-but-used-in-school last name, Kloughn.

Joyce would probably have Josie and Angie cage fighting before the night was over. I looked at my watch, I looked at Carl, and

he shook his head "no". I looked at grandma, she shook her head "no,"

I looked at the EMT's, "Lady we gotta get her to the hospital, we have another call that's come in."

I felt a tingle down my spine and Ranger, who had been talking on his phone, rested his hand lightly on the back of my neck, "Where do the girls need to go Babe?"

I looked around and spotted Angie and Mary Alice in Ranger's Cayenne with Manuel keeping them company through the open back window. "Umm, I don't know, just a second,"

I turned to Carl.

"Is Regina.."

"Nope, on the cruise."

"What about Peggy?"

"Cruise."

"Leanne?"

"Same." Damn that cruise

I was running out of ideas fast, "Do you think Ella would be available to sit with them?"

"I'll call her, I've got this, you can relieve me when you're done." Not sure if that was a double entendre.

"Wait, what did you mean by that?"

He gave a small smile and an imperceptible shrug, "Babe."

I don't know why, but I felt uncomfortable with Ranger performing such a domestic task for me.

"Hold on, I'll get Val's keys, so you can get in" I yelled. But before I could come up with them Ranger was crossing the street to his car. He put on his sexy aviator shades, looked at me and shook his head and pointed toward the ambulance, "GO!"


	6. Chapter 6

**I have several more chapters finished, just putting the final touches on to make it flow a little better. **Warning** a few upcoming chapters (after 6) will contain a topic that tends to offend and put off some people - Religion (Ha Ha). But please hang in, I am not a religious nut, nor am I proselytizing, or moralizing. Don't worry, there will be some very sexy steamy scenes later because we all know (and speaking from experience) no one does steamy and sexy better than those Catholic girls. I wanted to explore what would happen if Steph were forced into a situation where she had to attend church, and how Ranger would react.**

**p.s. I apologize for the lack of constancy in the paragraphs, I just can't decide what reads better, If anyone has some guidelines they want to share, I'm listening.**

**I don't own or make money off these characters.**

**Chapter 6**

**Ranger's Point of View**

I drove the girls toward Valerie's house. Angela was quiet, adding a few comments and corrections here and there but that Mary Alice, she was a talker. Couldn't sit still on the car ride much like someone else I knew in her family.

"And then Ryan Buziac got up and he told us all about visiting Portugal. And then he asked if anyone had any questions or comments, and I had a comment." Her brain took a detour, "Hey, do you know the capital of Portugal?"

"Lisbon."

"Right, have you been there?"

"Yes," but there's no paper trail to prove it.

"And," she continued, "I figured out on my own that we must get lots of people from Lisbon who move to Trenton."

"How do you figure?" where is she going with this.

"Cause Grandma and my mom sometimes talk about us having lots of Lisbians here." I opened my mouth to respond but I thought better of it.

I pulled into the alley behind Steph's sisters house. I had been here before when picking up Steph for Rangeman business. A few times I'd dropped her off when she was between cars. I turned in my seat to talk to the girls. "Who remembers our agreement?" Angela spoke up, "One, homework. Two, pajamas. Three, hot chocolate and popcorn. Four, movie."

Mary Alice added loudly "Five, Tasty Cakes."

"No five," I said, but I liked her for trying. "Awww," sighed Mary Alice, "that's un-American."

I grabbed the hamster cage, got out and opened the rear car door. Angela and Mary Alice hopped out with their backpacks and followed me to the house. I shook my head when I saw the Home Depot security special, in 2 seconds I had the door open and was standing in the mudroom. "Mr. Ranger, isn't that considered breaking and entering," asked Angela?

"Just Ranger, and no, technically I didn't break anything and you live here." I worked around the girls and scanned the main floor and basement. Not that I thought Valerie or Albert Kloughn had any enemies, but they _were_ related to Stephanie.

Experience has taught me to never assume to know what lurks behind a closed closet door. Heck, Stephanie and I had been stuck in a stranger's closet while the homeowner went about his business oblivious to our presence. If he had bothered to do a security sweep, he would have found me with one hand down her pants and the other up her shirt.

Angela and Mary Alice were at the table doing their homework sheets so I went upstairs and checked their bedrooms. I quickly worked my way through the upstairs, checking the linen closet, bathroom, and a master suite at the end of the hallway. It seemed Valerie ran a tight ship, much like her mother Helen.

The building had originally been in a row of businesses that had first been converted to townhomes in the 60's. The area had gone through some tough times as people vacated the older neighborhoods, but the area had been trending up in the last few years. Some of the little neighborhood business had come back and a few new restaurants had cropped up. First-time homebuyers and some looking to downsize were attracted to the larger lots at lower prices per square foot, believing in the promise that safer streets were to come.

Their particular unit had the traditional living room toward the street, dining room in the middle, kitchen and bathroom in the back. Off the kitchen there was also a small den that Stephanie's brother-in-law must have used as his office and the backdoor entered into a mudroom. Outside there was a decent-sized fenced-in back yard with a garage and an alley running through the block in the back.

The contractors who had done the remodel were actually new homebuilders who decided to diversify after the housing market tanked. The materials used were solid, and the work was detailed and well done. The designer had coordinated the wall colors, building materials and appliances. Still, given the fragility of the neighborhood, the lack of a security system was a glaring failure. I made a mental note to talk to Charles at C and G Construction about a possible contract deal. The amount the homebuyer would save in insurance premiums would pay for the systems.

When I got downstairs the girls were finishing their homework sheets and hanging up their backpacks. They headed upstairs and I pulled out my phone and dialed Tank. "Something's come up, I'm unavailable till further notice, who's on deck?" "Hal and Hector are on that install until eight, although they could be finished by now. Bobby and Cal are looking into a tripped alarm in Borgentown. What do you need?"

I had been in the Special Forces with Tank. We had crawled through minefields together and sat stone silent for days on stakeouts, not ever exchanging a sound. We knew nearly every mile of the Korean demilitarized zone. There was no way I was going to tell the big man I needed assistance babysitting. Besides, he could have the shit jobs tonight. I'd been working a lot of overtime, checking all of our systems since a rash of robberies had been sweeping through the Berg. Tonight I could relax a little, let my guard down and work on my computer. "Tell Santos to call me."

Besides, I felt responsible for Stephanie being stuck in Trenton babysitting while the rest of her family was off on a dream vacation. Unknown to Stephanie, the Homeland Security agent at the Newark Airport had a personal vendetta against Ranger Manoso. Mullendore Security had been operating for years in Trenton gouging clients for inferior services. When word got out that Rangeman offered better service at a competitive price, many of Mullendore's big clients left for Rangeman. Eventually Mullendore filed for bankruptcy and had to close shop. He used a few contacts he had from his army days and landed the Homeland Security Job.

Normally, airport pick-ups were less complicated, especially if the skip was still in the gate area. After all, they have already been checked for weapons. The bond agent just needs to present the paperwork and if the skip gives any resistance, a handful of security officers are available to assist. This had been the case until Richard Mullendore came on the scene. If Mullendore was on duty when Rangeman had to pick-up or transport a skip, the mission usually went FUBAR. Tank had known all this, and yet he had allowed Stephanie to get tangled up in the cluster-fuck.

I put on the teakettle and while it was heating I took out three mugs and looked in the cupboards. Toward the back of the cupboard I found Chocolate Ovaltine, low-salt popcorn, and a box of chamomile tea. I wondered if I was in the correct house, whoever stocked this kitchen could not have been related to Stephanie. I set up the three mugs, two with the chocolate mix, and one with the herbal teabag.

Angela came down the stairs first, and she really did look like an angel with her perfectly coifed golden halo of hair. She had on a light blue nightgown and pink princess slippers covered by a pink chenille bathrobe. Mary Alice, on the other hand, was wearing fleece P.J.'s and mismatched fuzzy slippers and a dark blue fleece robe that she wore like a cape by tying the arms together around her neck. Her hair was wild and bobbed around much like her aunt's and she had a little toothpaste on her cheek.

Mary Alice was dragging a Superfriends comforter by the corner, peppered with an array of dolls and figurines. When a few items bounced off, Mary Alice walked purposefully up the stairs, replaced the items on the comforter caravan and returned to resume dragging the long strand of blanket. "Angela, get the movie started, I need to make one more phone call," I ordered.

I sat at the table and hit the speed dial, Santos answered on the third ring out of breath. "Yes, it muss be important cause Tanks has called three times now."

I could tell Santos had been drinking. "Santos, why haven't you been answering your phone?" I barked.

There was a long pause then Lester spoke. "For the reason tat I'm ona sssuper hot date wif a ssssuper hot babe, tryna have some super hot sex, and it's my day off.

"Santos," I hissed, "Heywood, seven a.m."

"Well, I was hoping for a 24 hour ses marafon, but im finkin…" he stopped, "hey why you whisprin?"

"Santos, she better be driving," I said. "Sheiz, wer heddn to her dorm room now." He slurred. I could hear giggling in the background.

At least someone was getting some. But Santos would be of no use to me tonight. It wasn't that I wanted to get out of kid sitting, hell, I had nieces and nephews, and in my family there were always kids around, kids, I could handle. But the thought of Stephanie alone at the Hospital without the rest of her family, while her Grandma faced an uncertain future was gnawing at me. I looked up from my phone and the girls were staring at me. Angela was holding the movie in her hand and Mary Alice had made a comforter nest on the floor with her dolls circled around the edge.

"Is our hot chocolate ready Sargent?" asked Mary Alice. I nodded and let slide that she had just demoted me five ranks. Angela approached the rectangular table and took a seat diagonally from where I had my computer set up and Mary Alice sat directly to my left across from her sister. I sat the bowl of popcorn on the table and in a few seconds I had the steaming hot chocolates in front of both girls.

"Aunt Steffi puts ice in it, was that her on the phone, is Grandma o.k.?"

"My cousin Lester." I said, as I scooped some ice out of the freezer.

Mary Alice piped up, we don't like Lesters, I heard about one on the news and ask Aunt Steffie and she said Moe Lester is a bad guy we had to stay away from him." "Molester stupid, that's what there called." said her sister.

"Hey!" I snapped. I didn't want to scare the older girl, and God knows I could be very scary, but Angela's treatment of her little sister was not acceptable. She got quiet but justified her comment, "just saying." The iced down hot chocolates were sitting in front of the girls and I got up to check on my steeping tea.

"Aunt Steffie says if any Lesters try to touch you in your private parts you need to use a Wonder Woman move on them and run away."

I stood in the kitchen leaning against the sink and as I sipped my tea I glazed over a little. The thought of Stephanie and private parts was moving through my memory like Grant through Richmond. "Glad that 'no touching' policy doesn't apply to me" I mumbled to myself, staring into space, taking another sip of the herbal tea.

I was vaguely aware that Mary Alice was out of her chair standing next to me tugging at my right arm. But I wasn't ready to surrender the fantasy I was having about aunt Stephanie and private parts, and touching.

"Isn't that right? Hey what is your name again?" came the small but demanding voice.

"Ranger." I mumbled, coming out of my fog, not bothering to look down.

"Do you want to see what Aunt Steffie taught me?"

"Yea, sure" I said, not knowing what she was talking about.

"Ranger, right, so Aunt Steffie says you can either do _this_, or _this_." And in a split second I was doubled over away from the sink shielding my nuts with my right hand, hot steaming tea running from the cup still in my left hand and dripping off my left elbow. I wasn't sure if I had been kicked in the shin, but I definitely knew where the other blow had landed.

"Shhhht!" It took great control not to spew out a string of swear words. Mary Alice retreated to her blanket nest in the living room and Angela burst out laughing.

"Yea Mary Alice, that'll really piss off the Moe Lesters, good to remember the part where Aunt Steffie says 'run like hell".

"Hey," I snapped, looking up at Angela again, still bent from the waist. What was it with this kid, she was usually quite reserved and proper. I winced a bit, straightened, and set the teacup down on the counter. I retrieved a dishcloth from nearby and mopped up the spill.

Angela just shook her head, put the hot chocolate mugs in the sink and walked to the living room to join her sister. She picked up the remote, and in a moment she was sitting by her sister watching the movie. I could tell my blood pressure was slightly elevated, which did not happen, so I went into the powder room and adjusted myself.

I looked into the mirror and splashed some cold water on my face. I needed a pep talk. "Get a grip, Manoso, you can run the 440 in 57 seconds in full flack and you can bench press your own body weight. They're just little girls." I returned to the kitchen and chugged what was left of my tea and put the cup in the sink. So much for the calming, zen-like effect of chamomile.

I stepped silently across the dining room and sat on the edge of the sofa. Angela seemed annoyed by my intrusion, and Mary Alice peeked up warily.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked. I looked down at her blue eyes welling with tears and spoke softly.

"Nope, in fact, if someone tries to touch you, do that again, only harder."

"You mean it?" she asked, shocked that I was not going to yell at her.

"Yes," I said, tensing a little. "But only use that move if you think you're in danger, O.K."

"And then run like heck," quipped her sister.

"Exactly," I confirmed.

Mary Alice smiled and beamed her blue eyes up at me. In that moment, I imagined a little Stephanie Plum looking at me, complete with hot chocolate moustache and a piece of popcorn tangled in her curls. I felt the urge to hug her, but instead I just smiled and shook my head.

I stood up to walked back to my laptop. "When do you think Aunt Steph will return?" asked Angela.

"When your Grandma Mazur is better, not long."

"I hope soon cause I miss her" said Angela, letting me know I was second rate in the babysitting department. "And I need to give her this note from Sister Camilla. Sister Camilla told me to make sure Aunt Steph gets it today, and with Grandma and all, I just forgot." She handed me a tri-folded piece if paper.

Mary Alice added her two cents, "I miss Aunt Steffie too, she is the best aunt ever and I wish she was here, but I don't have no note to give her" and then Mary Alice sniffled a little and I quickly sought a distraction. "What makes her so great?" besides her lips, her eyes, her curves... "She plays games with us and we make doll clothes together. And she brings us Tasty Cakes and we make up stories about the Super Friends."

Another sniffle escaped. Oh crap, this is not acceptable, distract and re-route, "What kind of dolls?" God, I can't believe that question just came out of my mouth, I've got to get my testosterone levels checked. Mary Alice took a step toward me and my hands automatically shielded my nuts. She proudly thrust up her Barbie for inspection, forcing it into my hands.

I studied the doll in amusement, the brown haired Barbie, whose body actually reminded me of Stephanie, was wearing a red swimming suit to which had been hot-glued a gold fabric "W" logo. She had on white plastic Barbie knee-high boots that had been colored in with a red permanent marker. A gold foil tiara wrapped around her head, and a gold ribbon had been used to make a belt and gold wristbands. A cape had been fashioned out of a small silk blue hankie with white stars. "What does Wonder Woman do?" I asked, knowing full well what _I_ would do with her."She catches the bad guys, sometimes she has Bat Man help her." I bet Bat Man volunteers.

Mary Alice went to her nest and produced a plastic Bat Man action figure. He was a smaller scale doll, and when the figures stood together, plastic Bat Man looked Wonder Woman square in the chest, "Heh, heh, heh." Mary Alice didn't seem to mind. She started bouncing the figures up and down as though they were having a conversation and then she held them in the air and they both flew over to the blanket nest. Damn if I wasn't starting to like that girl.

Finally the girls settled into their movie and I was able to make a dent in my computer work. I was getting a little screen fatigue and I glanced at Steph's nieces with their eyes glued intently to the movie. The music was intense and I knew something big was about to happen. The kitty cat had fallen into the river and was in danger of drowning. One of the dogs had jumped in to save her. "Get her!" yelled Angie. "Hurry!" screamed Mary Alice. The kitty was pulled to shore and the girls cheered. I laughed out loud and both girls looked at me like I was an alien.

My mind drifted to Stephanie and I wondered why she was always so stubborn when I tried to help her? I knew she had been avoiding me these past few weeks and she seemed embarrassed to ask me to watch her nieces. I almost thought she was going to let Joyce Barnhart watch them, so I swept the girls into my car to eliminate that option.

I'll admit, I was feeling bad about her missing her trip. On Tuesday I had finally gotten through to my Washington contacts and had the charges dropped against Stephanie. When I got the fax, I headed straight to her apartment just in time to run into Leta Sanchez leaving with Stephanie's ticket. Now Steph was stuck watching the girls and her Grandma, and in true Stephanie Plum fashion, it had all gone to hell in a handbasket.

When I first met her, I assumed she was high maintenance and I didn't think she'd last as a BEA after her first failed attempt at catching Morelli. But when she stole his truck and drove it all over town I paid closer attention. I'll never forget the time I thought Stephanie was inviting me over for a booty call. She called late at night and said she was handcuffed to her shower rod, naked. I jumped out of bed, used mouthwash, and stuck three condoms in my wallet. The zipper on my cargo's was in danger of splitting by the time I reached her apartment. Thank God I'd brought the handcuff key for effect, thinking I'd be playing along with her little seduction. That could have been awkward.

She never flirted with me, I thought maybe she just didn't like the Army type, or maybe because I was Cuban. For what ever reason, she wasn't showing interest in me in a physical way, and the more I was around her, the more physically interested I became and when I realized Morelli was moving in on her, I did something stupid, I started to compete.

The day I installed the alarm at her apartment and she wanted answers about our relationship, I panicked and told her to go back to Morelli. I sent her away, not sure if she would ever really trust me again. She came around, slowly, but Morelli was always in the background, hovering. I had designated him her safety net.

Six weeks had passed since Steph had found Morelli with Angelina Collingsworth at a Newark Hotel. Reports were she took Joe and the woman down with her stun gun and tossed their bags from the 7th story balcony. That's my girl. I knew he had been sneaking around under Steph's nose for awhile. Now they were split, and I was pretty sure it was for good. Now that Morelli was out of the picture, I didn't know where we stood. She was not showin her hand, and when I tried to get a read on her she seemed guarded. When I thought I had an opening, she would shut me down by joking or slipping away. "Dios, just send me a sign."

Steph is always saying I have ESP and that I can read her mind. I don't have ESP. I just know her well from hours of surveillance together. She has unknowingly revealed volumes of personal information during the hours we've spent on steak-outs. Sitting makes her fidgety and anxious, and sitting around me makes her a little nervous. And when she gets nervous, she talks. I have to laugh when she claims I don't talk much, in truth, I'm too busy listening. Most men think this is an unbecoming trait in a woman, but they're idiots. I could sit for hours, heck, I _have_ sat for hours and just listened to her talk. And the time always passed so quickly. The innocence of her voice, the way she laughs, her sighs.

After about an hour, I closed my laptop and walked into the living room. Angie and Mary Alice had fallen asleep sometime during the movie. Mary Alice was snuggled in the blanket nest on the floor and Angie was curled up in a ball on the sofa. I took blankets off the back of the sofa and covered them both. I sat down on the sofa to look for the remote control as the final dramatic scene from Homeward Bound began to play.

The white dog and kitty had miraculously made it back home from their long journey, but the old yellow dog was nowhere to be seen. His master's young face stared in sadness realizing the journey had probably been too much for his loyal companion to withstand. I stepped toward the television to turn off the movie but my eyes froze on the screen when I heard a bark and saw the old yellow dog came trotting over the hill. Despite the obstacles, the faithful companion returns. A lump formed in my throat and I quickly turned the channel, coughing away the tightness in my chest. What the hell is wrong with me, I need to go punch a speed bag, shoot a gun or something, instead I turned to Sports Center and put the volume on low.

I sank into the sofa and looked at the sleeping Mini-Stephanie on the floor. Damn if that kid wasn't the spitting image of her aunt. She was outspoken, fearless, and innocent. I leaned back a little to stretch my legs and heard a paper rustle in my pocket. I took the white tri-fold paper Angla had given me out of my pocket. I had known Sister Camilla, back when I was in school, and what ever she asked you to do, you did it, or else. Maybe that was why Angela seemed so on-edge. I unfolded the sheet and began to read. In a minute I broke into a smile and chuckled. "Stephanie Plum," I said, "this could be interesting."


	7. Chapter 7

**I have several more chapters finished, just putting the final touches on to make it flow a little better. **Warning** a few upcoming chapters (after 6) will contain a topic that tends to offend and put off some people - Religion (Ha Ha). But please hang in, I am not a religious nut, nor am I proselytizing, or moralizing. Don't worry, there will be some very sexy steamy scenes later because we all know (and speaking from experience) no one does steamy and sexy better than those Catholic girls. I wanted to explore what would happen if Steph were forced into a situation where she had to attend church, and how Ranger would react.**

**p.s. I apologize for the lack of constancy in the paragraphs, I just can't decide what reads better, If anyone has some guidelines they want to share, I'm listening.**

**I don't own or make money off these characters.**

**Chapter 7**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

It seemed like we had been in the emergency room for hours, Grandma was getting an x-ray of her hip, but the doctor was pretty sure it was broken and they would have to do surgery right away. I took the time when Grandma was in x-ray to get a sub sandwich from the cafeteria and check my phone messages. I debated whether or not to call my parents, and decided that Grandma wouldn't be any better off with them at her side, so I made a plan to call tomorrow, after they were on the ship and out of cell phone reach.

I left several messages with people who I thought could help me with the girls. I hoped Ranger had called Ella. I knew he would expect a status report so I dialed his phone.

"Yo."

"Hi, I'm calling to report" I said.

"Talk to me."

"Grandma is having an x-ray right now. Most likely her hip is broken. There's an orthopedic surgeon on stand-by and he is prepared to come in if needed. Please let Ella know I will get to Val's as soon as I can.

"Babe, I'm at you sister's, the girls are watching a movie."

"Where's Ella," I asked. "No Ella, just me." Oh crap, Ella wasn't available and now Ranger was stuck babysitting. Somehow the image of domestic Ranger didn't fit. I thought about this for a moment, I knew the girls were safe with him, but then out of nowhere a paternal switch flipped on in me and I was second-guessing my choice of sitter. Ranger's idea of a wild time was a little carob in the granola and push-up contests.

"Babe, are you still there?"

"Did they get their hot chocolate and popcorn," I asked.

"You didn't give them kale chips did you? By the way, that treadmill is for adults only, it says so in the manual," I was on a roll. "And documentaries do not count as entertainment, we had DVD's picked out, maybe I should talk to Angie!"

"It's been handled, Babe." He chuckled.

I wasn't thoroughly convinced. "I'll make some calls and try to find someone else, if Jeannie Esposito would just get back to me..."

"Babe, take care of the Grandma, just warn the doctor to sedated her before he removes her clothes."

I relaxed a little, "yeah, finally she can tell the girls at the beauty shop she was drugged and undressed by Dr. McDreamy." I giggled. I could tell Ranger was smiling and probably doing a mind-clearing head shake.

"Babe, I'll work on my laptop until you can get here," he said.

The adding machine in my head was tallying up the proverbial "bill" for all of Ranger's services.

"Shit, this is going to cost me," I said, under my breath.

"And you're not running a tab," he said, and hung up.

Crap, had I said that out loud, and shit, what does he mean, 'I'm not running a tab." Does he mean I don't owe him anything, or does he mean I have to pay up ASAP? He would probably expect me to do some more distractions, possibly some chauffeuring of horny perverts. Oh well, after all, I do work for Vinnie, what's one more knuckle-dragger?

The real fear came with the possibility that Ranger would want something more in the lines of "services." I had been "serviced " by him once in the past and as I recalled it wasn't exactly an un-enjoyable experience, in fact it was quite pleasant, in a dark, fairy-tale-sex-fantasy kind of way. Let's just say Batman gave new meaning to "Dark Knight Rises." But if he thought I was going to be his 'booty call' just because I was broke up with Morelli, he could think again. The strategic genius had no other plans beyond nine inches. I was getting hot and fidgety just thinking about it and I really needed to eat something ala Duncan Donut or do the cha-cha with my shower massager.

It was a little after eleven-thirty when I pulled in next to Ranger's Cayenne and opened the back door. Ranger was sitting at the dining room table, he stood and walked to me scanning my face with his brown eyes. I looked up at him and gave a little smile. His index finger touched his lips to indicate the girls were asleep and to be quiet. He pointed toward the living room. I nodded and quietly followed him through the house to the living room where the girls were sleeping.

My heart warmed with the sight of Angie and Mary Alice asleep in the living room. Mary Alice held a firm grip on her Wonder Woman doll. When I gathered her in my arms and lifted her, a few other action figures fell to the floor. I could feel Ranger watching, waiting to follow my lead. I wanted to get the girls in their beds so I looked at Ranger and nodded my head toward Angie. He picked up Angie and slowly followed me up the stairs. No words were spoken as both girls were tucked into their beds. I turned on a night-light and Ranger checked the locks on the windows. When I got back down to the living room I sunk into the sofa and let out a sigh. I looked up at Ranger who was holding a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. I nodded toward the beer, he opened it and handed it to me.

Ranger sat down next to me and waited for me to speak. I took a long pull on the beer then let out a sigh.

"The doctor said it went as expected for a person her age. They were going to put some metal pins in her pelvis, but when they got in, they decided a full replacement would be better. After the surgery she woke up for awhile, but the drugs they gave her have her knocked out."

"And" he coaxed.

"And, she looked very old and frail in the hospital bed, she looked… mortal." My eyes were on the beer bottle, but my gaze was far away. I could feel a tear threatening to fall and widened my eyes to dry it.

"Ranger, thank you for…"

"Shhhhh, I got some work done."

"How were the girls?"

"Typical kids, well, no, that Mary Alice is anything but typical. And why's the older one so hostile toward her?"

"Yea, Mary Alice has a way of getting noticed, and not always in a good way. And Angie, she doesn't want _anyone_ to notice her. Her Burg genes have kicked in and she worries about what other people will think. Sometimes she pretends not to know her own sister, and I know she hates riding in my car. This morning she asked if I would drop her off a block from the school. The last time I picked her up from school, I drove old blue and the next day kids teased her by making whale noises. "

"Harsh," noted Ranger.

"But I think there's more to it, I think she's getting teased by some girls at school."

I felt bad for Angie because I, of all people know how embarrassing Ole Blue can be. Then an idea came to me, "I hate to ask, but do you think I could borrow a car to ride them to school Monday. Everybody thinks your cars are cool, right?" No one in their right mind would laugh at on of Ranger's cars. Ranger let out a small laugh and gave me a side-ways look.

"So, you think a car is going to solve Angela's problem?"

"Look what a car did for Knight Rider, The Dukes of hazard," then my voice got low and sexy, "look what a car did for Batman."

"True," he chuckled. "You can take my car, Babe, but you know trials and tribulations, they build character, right" He sat with that thought for a moment.

"Babe, your sister needs to get better locks and a real security system. That keypad is a joke; it makes your apartment look like Fort Knox. What's your plan for tomorrow?"

"We were going to the beach in Point Pleasant," I said, "but with Grandma and all, we'll just be here."

"I'm sending Lester over at 8:00 with a new system, he can train you on the installation."

"Kay." What, no arguing?

Ranger knelt down in front of me and rested his hands on my thighs. A little smile played on his face and he searched my eyes.

"Babe, don't worry, your Grandma has too much to live for."

"I guess, she still has friends around, and now Val and the girls are here…"

"No, Babe, that's not what I mean. She's still holding out hope of seeing me naked."

I gave him a little shoulder slug and I couldn't help but smile. She's not the only one, I thought.

"I could give you a photo if you think it would encourage her," he teased. And I'll hold onto it until she's better.

'It would probably just get confiscated by the nurses," I mused.

"Babe, there's a note on the counter from the school, Angela asked me to make sure you saw it tonight." He got up and started gathering his things to go.

"Oh?" I picked up the note and started to read.

_Dear Ms. Plum,_

_Thank you for volunteering to fill in for Valerie Kloughn as a Mass monitor for Blessed Sacrament School, May 20__th__ thru May 24__th__._

_Beginning each day in worship to our Lord is the most important aspect of a Catholic Education. Mass starts promptly at 8:15 a.m. every morning. _

I started hyperventilating a little, "Oh my God, oh my God." I continued to read in stunned silence. Years of Catholic guilt were culminating and I got that stab in my gut you get when you realize you have missed an important appointment.

_ Following is a list of guidelines for Mass monitors as written by our Superintendent, Father Ignatius:_

_1) Arrive on time._

_2) Maintain discipline of the students seated in your section._

_3) Help student to follow the missal and readings, and to stand, sit, and kneel at the correct times._

_4) Follow the students in your section to Holy Communion._

_5)Walk your group from the Church, across the parking lot to the west doors of the school building._

_Yours in Christ,_

_Sister Camilla Rosario_

_Principal, Blessed Sacrament School_

"Got to go Babe, I'm meeting Tank at midnight to pick up a bad guy." I kept my head down reading and absentmindedly lifted my hand to wave at Ranger as he was packing up his computer bag.

My eyes were glued to the page and I was mumbling something under my breath about my mother and Val, a conspiracy, and how they were lucky to be out of the country or they would be dead, when I felt Ranger kiss the top of my bowed head and squeeze my forearm before he turned to walk toward the back door.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I read the hand-written post script at the bottom of the page and gasped.

_Ms. Plum, In our Catholic faith, we must be in a state of grace before receiving the Holy Eucharist, if you are in need of confession, and being that I have not seen you in Church ("__for several" was crossed out)__ ever, I want to remind you that the Sacrament of Confession is usually made available 45 minutes prior to Mass at most churches in the Trenton Diocese. _

_-Sister Camilla_

"This is…. they want me to…but I…. HOLY JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!"

By now I was seeing spots and I vaguely remember hearing Ranger chuckle as he walked out the door. "By Jove, I think she's got it."


	8. Chapter 8

**This Chapter is dedicated to all the people who took the time to write a review of this story. There will be hot sex eventually, just wait for it. With Steph still in charge of the girls, it just feels a little icky to have those situations overlap. But in the next few chapters there are plenty of "adult situations." And all the Catholic references are straight out of my own personal experiences, and I haven't been struck by lightening yet.**

**Not my Characters, I make no money from them.**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

I was in a rowboat in a stream paddling through an underground cavern wearing my Rangeman tee shirt and pink underwear. Instead of "Rangeman," Ella had embroidered a large letter "S" on the shirt, just like Lavern DeFazio had that huge "L". Around each corner I thought I saw the exit but it kept eluding me. At one point, I passed a paneled door in the side of the cave. I grabbed the knob and the door started to come open, but the force of the water flowing into the open doorway overtook me and I was hanging onto the doorknob, deathly afraid of what would happen if I let go. I sat up straight in bed, sweat beading off my forehead. It must have been the church-monitoring thing nagging at me. Mass would mean communion and communion would mean confession and confession would mean an examination of my conscious - and I would have to discuss my sex life with a priest. Crap!

They say money is the root of all evil, but in my life, I can link all my sins to three indulgences: food, sex, and booze. Lying, idolatry, coveting, you can bet one of my "big three" was at the heart of it. And come to think of it, when Joe Morelli was involved the sins just compounded. The first time we had SEX we were in the Tasty Pastry surrounded by FOOD and he had been drinking BOOZE! See what I mean? I don't think it's a coincidence either, that these "big three" causing the most problems in my life also happen to be the three favorite past-times of Italians. Personally speaking, I can't go an hour without one of these crossing my mind, and if Ranger's around, my sin meter is humming, if he's holding a bottle of vino, the meter starts smoking. Add a piece of devil's food cake and a shoot opens up in the floor and I slide straight to hell. In all fairness, these indulgences are hard enough for most humans to avoid, nearly impossible for Italians, add Hungarian hormones and you're screwed.

In the old days, right after the priest said, "Let us offer each other the sign of peace" and everyone shook hands, I would just slip out the side door by the baptismal fount, or excuse myself to go to the bathroom. But this week, there would be no escaping the eagle eye of Sister Camilla Rosario. I had heard a few stories about her from Angie and I knew she was not a person you wanted to mess with. In fact, I was a little scared of her. I thought anyone who could keep their hormones in check for all eternity must possess super-human powers, even Ranger slipped at that one.

According to Catholic doctrine, if you received Holy Communion while not in a state of grace, you were committing a mortal sin and if you died, you would go straight to hell. Berg Catholics pretty much consider this a "guideline" but I didn't think that in my line of work I should be taking any chances.

Some Catholics claimed if you knowingly received communion with sin on your soul God didn't always wait until your death to exact revenge, sometimes he sped things along in the form of disfigurement, financial ruin, herpes. Grandma Bella swore Sherry Mancini had dropped dead at the alter with the host lodged in her throat the day after she was seen at a hotel in Atlantic City with Myron Francona. Oddly this was the same group of Catholic women who didn't allow Barbara Whishard into their bridge club after she purchased the same model Cadillac as Dina Morelli.

Karma, Tiki, Vordo, The Eye, some phenomena just defied explanation. Actually, I seemed to be on the Big Guy's good side lately. How else could I explain escaping multiple fires, death threats, and assassination attempts? We seemed to have a good working agreement and I didn't want to mess, didn't want to tempt fate, especially when I tended to cause explosions. I didn't like the strong-arm tactics, but I also wasn't about for explain to Angie why I wasn't receiving communion along with the rest of the congregation.

I made up my mind right then and there, I was off Morelli, literally _off_ Morelli, for good, forever. And until Ranger could send me a sign that we had something more than just body heat between us, well, he was a no-go. I didn't need a ring and a date from Ranger, but I did need some assurance that he felt more than lust for me. And until he could verbalize it, he wasn't getting any of my "dessert" either.

As far as other sins were concerned, I could curb the swearing, and heck, I could give my shower massager a break for one week. My parents were out of town so I doubt I could dishonor them with the long distance. I was determined to live five days free from sin, right? And it all began by righting my soul by the cleansing act of confession. Crap that holy water better have bleach in it, I thought.

I took a change of clothes out of my bag and went through my morning routine, taming my hair into a ponytail. I walked down the hall and looked in at Mary Alice. She was curled up in a ball, her mouth was open and she was snoring loudly. Angie's room was empty and I could hear her in the kitchen.

When I got downstairs, I could see that Angie had the table set for three with milk and cereal ready to go. It was nearly eight a.m. and she had already unloaded the dishwasher and cleaned out Rex's cage and fed him. "Good morning Aunt Steph," she bounded over and gave me a big hug. "I wanted to surprise you with breakfast."

"And you did, thank you," I said.

I asked her how everything went last night; she gave me a report on Ranger. Seems the only deviation from our plans was the omission of Tasty Cakes. I briefed her on Grandma and told her some people from my work would be coming over to install a new alarm system. I poured some Honey Nut Cheerios and dialed Grandma at the hospital. Clara from the Clip-N-Curl picked up. I could hear laughter in the background. Grandma assured me she was fine and told me to come in the afternoon for a visit. I hung up and took in a breath as I dialed Albert's cell phone. I cringed until I heard the recording pick up. I knew they would not get the message until they were state side, but at least I had done my part.

As soon as I hung up, my phone rang. "Hola, chicka, we're here, where do you want us, front or back."

"Pull around back," I said.

In minutes Hector had the door unlocked and was walking in with Lester following behind. Hector came over to me and smiled over his shoulder. He motioned back to Santos who was uncharacteristically quiet. "He no good today, but boss man make him come in to help you."

"Coffee?" I asked.

"God bless you Beautiful," Lester shot me a somewhat pained smile.

I poured Lester a cup and motioned for him to sit at the table. He took a seat next to Angie, who was eating her cereal and reading her book. "Hello little Beautiful, what are you reading?" he asked her.

"My mom told me not to speak to strange men." She said without taking her eyes off her book.

"I'm not strange, I'm good friends with your aunt."

"Ella es de Santos, un buen juez de personaje como Estefanía," noted Hector. (She's on to you Santos, good judge of character like Stephanie)

"Y huele como el alcohol y Listerine," added Angie. (And he smells like alcohol and Listerine)

I looked at Angie with my mouth hanging open. Hector roared with laughter and spoke to her some more.

"Good one little chicka. Él es un buen chico. ¿Cómo sabe usted español?" (He's an O.K. guy. How do you know Spanish?)

Angie answered to all of us, "We used to live in California, and everyone there speaks Spanish. I went to a Spanish club after school and our nanny Maria was always helping us with words.

"Excelente, I'm Hector." He said, extending his hand.

"Angie," she shook his hand and smiled, not seeming at all phased by his tattoos.

Mary Alice made her way down the stairs and to the table. I'm not sure, but she didn't appear completely awake. She went right up to Lester and sat on his lap. Her eyelids looked like they might close again in sleep. She robotically poured the cheerios and Lester helped her with the milk. Lester smiled at her acceptance and brushed her curls from her face. "You must be Mary Alice, I'm your aunt's friend, I'm sure she's told you all about me, my name's Lester." He gave her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and rested his hand on her leg.

In a moment, Mary Alice's eyes were wide open and she was on her feet and milk started spilling, running off the table. A startled Lester jumped to his feet before he got soaked. Mary Alice whirled around administering the Wonder Woman defense move I'd shown her. Angie, Hector, and I stared open mouthed glancing between a triumphant Mary Alice and Lester who was moaning in a fetal position on the floor.

After the commotion had calmed down, Angie explained the events of the night before leading up to Lester's demise. Mary Alice was in the living room hiding behind the sofa. Hector was laughing and talking in Spanish to Lester who was pulling himself off the floor.

Angie took Mary Alice upstairs to play while Hector and Lester trained me on the install. We started by walking the perimeter of the property and doing a full assessment of doors and windows and any trouble spots. They guys were talking about Angie's Spanish, and how she was on her way to becoming bi-lingual. Lester pointed out that Angie's Spanish was better at ten-years-old than Hectors English at the age of twenty-six. Hector spoke up, "you think my English bad, and you should hear Father Octavio."

"Yeah," said Lester, "He only knows the swear words and juicy bits he hears in the confessional." They both cracked-up.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "If you only speak English, don't you go to a Priest who speaks English?"

"Well, yeah but sometimes people read the schedule wrong and go in. Father Octavio told me once, when he hears a person start out speaking only English, he just rolls with it, gives them five Hail Mary's and calls it good." I smiled and laughed along with the guys but my brain was percolating. A little light went on in my head and I had the beginnings of a plan forming.

"So you go to church then?" I asked.

"Sometimes," said Lester, "if it's a special occasion, or someone in the Manoso clan gets baptized, married, or buried, which is pretty much all the time." At that last remark, Hector gave Lester a glare. Lester put on a serious face and quickly looked down at his shoes. I just ignored the gesture, I didn't need him to tell me there was a party going on at the Manoso's and I wasn't invited, it was pretty obvious.

"So," I was trying to sound casual, "are there any all-Spanish Catholic churches in Trenton?"

"Well, no, but Our Lady off Stark could be. Not many white folks are brave enough to attend, even if they are within the boundary."

They guys were training me on a basic residential install. All doors and windows would require magnetic sensors that would trip the alarm if the connection were breached. This required every door and window to have a sensor wired to a central hub in the basement. The guys showed me how to determine where to place the sensor hub, keypad and electrical source. I could run all required wires, but the final connecting had to be done by a certified installer with proper electrical training. To save time, I would run the wire and drop the sensors, and the guys would do the drilling, pulling wire, and attaching. By 11:30, the keypad and hub were in place and all of the sensors were sitting next to their designated windows and the wires were run waiting to be snaked through the holes that would eventually be drilled, however, we had hit a snag. Apparently, to snake the wires to the basement, we had to drill through a layer of steel meshed concrete. Lester and Hector had broken 3 drill bits.

"Beautiful, we need some special tools to finish this job. The good news is, this place is built like a brick shithouse. I don't know if we have everything at Heywood," said Lester.

"Be happy, chicka," said Hector, "house, es fireproof, no 'bang'." I told them we could finish tomorrow and that I had some errands to run anyway.

I loaded up the girls and we headed for my parents house. I looked over my list of people on the cruise and we made two stops to water plants and pick up mail. So far, I was feeling pretty good about the day; the girls had played well together and I had learned a lot about basic security system installation. In fact, Angie was in such a good mood I decided to take the opportunity to do a little investigating.

"So, Angie, I was wondering, who's that girl Josie?

Her eyes got big and she looked a little scared "I, I don't know who you're talking about."

"Oh you know," said Mary Alice, "the one who likes Michael Potuto."

"Shut up Mary Alice!" I knew from my sister Valarie, that Michael Potuto was the most popular boy in Angie's class and all the girls were head over heals, and it seemed he had taken an interest in Angie.

Mary Alice continued, "I like Josie, she's a little older, but she's always inviting me to play games with her friends, like 'Moon on the Monkey Bars,' and 'Let's Eat Dirt Dessert.'"

Angle's face reddened and she turned toward her sister, "that's because they want to laugh at you, you dummy. I _told_ you to say away from them, they are trying to trick you. Why don't you listen to me, you are ruining my life!"

Mary Alice got very quiet and looked out her window. The picture was coming into focus. "So," I said gently, "have you talked with anybody at school about this?" I was totally in foreign territory here. Val was out of the country, my mother too, and Mary Lou, for that matter.

My stomach was churning and I got a lump in my throat. Some all-too-familiar memories from my childhood came flooding back and my eye started twitching. I wanted to help but I didn't know the first thing about parenting, like real-life-issue parenting. So I did what I knew best, "So, who wants to set the table?"

I parked my Nissan on the street and got out. I emptied the mailbox, picked the newspaper up from the step and we headed in. I grabbed a few items for Grandma and I foraged for some leftovers for lunch. I found some meatloaf, bread, and green beans my mother had left with a little note:

_Stephanie, _

_Don't overheat the meatloaf or it will get dry. Invite Joseph over and he can tell you where I hid the desserts. _

_P.S. Sister Camilla is expecting you to monitor Mass this week. I hope you can remember how to make a confession. The schedule is on the refrigerator. _

Angie set the table while Mary Alice poured us some lemon-aide. I was getting ready to dig in when Angie cleared her throat and announced she wanted to say grace. We said the traditional "Bless us, O Lord…" and at the end, Angie ask God to bless her parents and grandparent. Mary Alice added in Rex and Ranger. After we were finished, I cleared the table and called Joe.

He answered in his your-bothering-me-voice, "What?"

"Hello to you too, now where is it?" I said, equally annoyed.

"Where's what?" he asked.

"Don't play, you know what I'm talking about… dessert."

"Oh my God, your mom was serious." He laughed. "Hey, you're not eating the meatloaf without me are you?"

I made lip smacking noises into the phone and moaned a little, "MMM, not _eating_, _ate_, and MMM it was delicious."

"Well, in that case you'd better put those bounty hunting skills to work and find your dessert," and he hung up.

I held the receiver up in front of my face and was about to scream into it but thought better of it. I looked in a few of my mother's hiding places and found only some half empty bottles of Benedictine and vodka. I searched the refrigerator and freezer in the kitchen and sighed. I remembered that I would need that confessional soon and that I shouldn't waste time, because three opportunities had already come and gone with the three Saturday morning services around the area.

After lunch we went to Mary Rohers apartment to feed her cat Pickles. Mary was on the cruise, and since I wasn't, well let's just say I was racking up some good deed Karma. After that, we stopped by the St. Francis. Grandma was sitting up in her bed and looked surprisingly well. Some cards and flowers lined her windowsill and I noticed a beautiful yellow rose bouquet with a black card signed with gold ink in Ella's handwriting. She told us about the visitors she'd had this morning. Some ladies had come by, some to see her, and others to get in on the lunch special in the cafeteria. Jim Marasco had called, and would be stopping by tomorrow, and Manuel Vivanco and his friend brought some flowers over.

Grandma was a little groggy but she perked up when Dr. McDermott entered the room. "Hello, Mrs. Mazur, Miss Plum."

"Call me Edna," she crooned.

"As I said last night, your surgery went very well. I must say you are in excellent shape. Your bones are healthy, and I don't believe this was a result of osteoporosis. By the looks of your hip, you just took a very hard fall. I see a full recovery in your future if you continue with the exercises and eat a healthy diet."

"Well ain't that something, so what I really want to know is, when can I resume normal activities?"

"You should be walking with assistance by tomorrow, short trips of course, and the physical therapist will start on stairs, probably in a week or so."

"Great, but what about other _activities_?" she said, winking her eye.

"Well." he said slowly, "like swimming and stationary bike, I would say in a month or so."

" I mean, like S-E-X," she whispered, winking at him again. Aw crap, why is this my reality. No wonder I need a confessional.

I grabbed Angie and Mary Alice and ushered them out as Angie rambled, "sex, why does Grandma need to know about sex?"

Since our plans to go to the beach had fallen through, we decided to go to the Trenton Public Library. There was a three o'clock story hour in the children's section and I could check my e-mail on the public computers. I got the girls settled in the children's section and I found an open computer station nearby so I could keep an eye on them. I logged on to the public system and pulled up my e-mail and it was inundated with pop-up ads.

I had deleted 72 open windows, and then I saw it. A little cartoon ad of Vinnie's Bounty Hunter Billboard, only the B's were actually sets of boobs sporting some very cold nipples turned sideways. I clicked on the file and was taken to a page where several dozen thumbnail images of me in various poses could be seen. A banner across the top announced that two new videos were now available in HD. A dozen of the still photos were free, but to access the videos, you had to buy a subscription. "Oh my God, not so long ago two men saw me naked on the same day and walked away, and now people are charging admission?"

The little counter on the website displayed 174,659 hits. Of course from the neck down it was not really me, just my face on someone else's body. I clicked on the video feed and the little thumbnail enlarged revealing a woman in a thong and a peek-a-boo bra. She was obviously wearing a big curly brown wig, stilettos and she was frisking a very aroused skip that had been handcuffed to the grill of a Buick.

I was feeling sick to my stomach and I desperately wanted to find the Ladies' room but I couldn't pull my eyes away from the train wreck. I clicked on one more link and some sultry music started playing, growing louder and louder. I was in a panic trying to toggle down the sound when a library employee came over to fuss about the noise level, I told her I was trying. She tried to help as I tried to hide the screen from view. Soon a few people were gathered trying to assist. The librarian had called another employee over and they both tried to fix the issue. I was trying to explain these were not my photos. They were giving me the "yeah right" look, but kept trying to help.

Now a small crowd was hovered around looking from me to the screen. A few men were nodding in approval. A few knowing chuckles and "Oh, ya's" went through the crowd. Of course the women were looking at me in disgust before they turned away. I looked nervously across the large room at the girls. Mary Alice was thoroughly engrossed in the story being read by a woman dressed in a prairie outfit, Angie looked at me, worried. I gave her a faint smile and hit the doomsday kill switch on the computer.

When story time was finished, the girls checked out a few books and we high-tailed it out of there. Perhaps this is why I didn't read more often. It seems that quiet places and me don't mix. We got back to Val's and parked in the back. I opened Val's freezer and pulled out another pan of mystery food from my mother.

_Stephanie,_

_Step 1 - Bake with foil on at 350 for one hour. _

_Step 2 - Let sit for 15 minutes before serving._

_Step 3 – While Lasagna is baking, call Joseph and invite him for dinner. Tell him to bring the cheesecake._

_Love, Mom_

Damn, she was playing hardball. There was no way in hell I was going to share my meals with that two-timing ass. Let alone eat dessert with him. On the other side, the longer I went without dessert, the more I was willing to overlook his transgressions to satisfy the other type of cravings I was having.

I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Yes." Joe hissed. I could hear the stress in his voice.

"Hey, I was thinking, what are you doing for dinner?" He paused a beat.

"Depends, cupcake, wha'd ya have in mind?" he purred. I rolled my eyes.

"Not a sit-down, I was thinking a trade. I'll swap you a quarter pan of lasagna for three quarters of a cheesecake," I said.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, "hmm, somehow those proportions don't seem quite fair, make it half a pan of lasagna."

"Look, that cheesecake belongs to me, made by my mother."

"Yes, but she left it with me, and possession is nine-tenths the law." Shit, he had me there. I weighed the offer, knowing I still had some leftover meatloaf from lunch.

"Deal," I said quickly.

"I'm at Val's, can you be here at 6:00?"

"I'll bring it by Cupcake, but I'm in a hurry. Have the Lasagna ready."

So he had confirmed it, my mother had actually left a week worth of desserts with my cheating ex-boyfriend in hopes of us getting back together. I was done with Morelli; even my raging hormones couldn't make me get back together with him. Besides, I'd made a decision to be off of men and sex this week, thanks to Sister Camilla Rosario. Thankfully Morelli would be bringing my cheesecake soon and I could slip into a carbohydrate coma before I broke my chastity vow. I was thinking about chastity and my phone rang. Ranger.

I answered and waited for him to speak first.

"Babe."

"Hi Ranger, what's up?"

"Are you home for the night?"

"Yes."

He was about to hang up before I spoke.

"Is Ella around, I really need to talk to her," I started.

"Everything O.K.?" he asked.

"Yeah, just, I really need a babysitter for a few errands tomorrow, of course I'll pay her. Connie's going to Newark and Ella's the only person in Trenton who I trust, and who has time, that is, if you can spare her."

Now, normally, I hate asking anybody for anything, but especially Ranger. But Sunday was my last chance for confession. I decided to make an exception considering my soul could depend on it.

"What time?" he asked.

I pulled the weekly Catholic bulletin off of Val's refrigerator and started looking through the mass schedule.

"Five to seven tomorrow evening," I said.

"I'll have Ella at your sister's at five." And he hung up.

The girls were upstairs playing and reading their library books. I had finished baking the Lasagna and wrapping up half, well, more like a third of it, when I heard Joe at the back door. He let himself in and held up my mother's Tupperware container. He looked good, damn him. He wore a button down royal blue silk shirt open at the collar and a navy windowpane sport coat unbuttoned over a pair of faded Levi's. His 5 o'clock shadow was edged neatly and he was sporting a little hair gel and smelled like a fresh ocean breeze.

Joe put the cheesecake in the frig and trapped me in the corner of the counter with his arm behind me resting on the countertop. "Wish I didn't have to run off. I gotta go, but looking at you is making me wish I did have the time; you look good enough to eat. Did you do something to your hair?" He was hovering above me giving me the once-over with his eyes; I could feel his breath on me and smell the clean scent of his aftershave.

Oh crap, I did not want to do this now. I hadn't officially given Joe the boot, although we both knew it was over, due to my not returning any of his phone calls for three months, and his willingness to be seen in P.D.A.'s (that's public displays of assholeness) with several women. I thought about using the Mary Alice move, but that might jeopardize my cheesecake.

I jabbed him in the solar plexus with my knuckle and escaped into the dining room. "Thanks, yeah, really too bad you have to go, lasagna's in the bag. You have that big case to attend to." He looked at me and cocked his head. Without saying a word, he smiled and lifted the bag from the counter and was gone, thank God.

My hormones were in overdrive and I thought if I just licked a piece of the cheesecake, perhaps a nibble of the graham cracker crust, that would hold me over till after dinner. I took out the Tupperware container and placed it on the counter. When I opened the lid I gasped in horror – I was staring at 3 pounds of butter. Joe Morelli is a dead man.


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's one for the Babes.**

**I don't own or make money from these characters.**

**Stefanie's Point of View**

It was Saturday night, and since I was effectively grounded, Connie and Lula agreed to come by and keep me company. We played on the Wii and Lula put some little rhinestone decals on the girl's fingernails. I put the girls to bed about 8:30, made sure they were fast asleep, and then uncorked a bottle of red wine.

"All right girlfriend, what's this about a porn site?" asked Lula.

I opened up my laptop on the dining room table and we all huddled around. Before long, I had navigated to YouTube to the Bombshell Bounty Hunter Blooper Channel. The most recent video of me at the Trenton airport was at the top of the list, followed by a takedown at the dog track, a chase down an alley off Stark, and several others. I located the link to the naughty website embedded in one on the newest blooper videos.

I opened the link and the slideshow of photos and video links started rolling.

"Aww, that's a good one," said Connie.

"Yeah, I like your hair, you should do that more often," added Lula

"Cute, can I borrow that scarf?" asked Connie.

I rolled my eyes, "just wait," I said.

"Whoa! Who's that guy?" blurted Lula.

"Oh my God, is that a donkey?" yelled Connie.

Connie was making notes of the links and any other info we could follow up on. Lula, on the other hand, was looking for people and places she may have come in contact with in her old profession. After an hour or so we were on our second bottle of wine and we had a list of web addresses, leads, and suspects. Of course Vinnie was at the top of the list, along with anyone who had been associated with the closet porn king, Uncle Moe. There were skips that lived in their mother's basements and some known sex offenders. We needed to trace back from the websites and video feeds. Unfortunately, we all agreed this was beyond any of our computer abilities. I flipped open my phone. "This is Stephanie Plum, I may have a job for you, how fast can you be here?"

Randy Briggs, proof big things came in small packages. He may have only been 3 feet tall but he was one of the toughest skips I ever brought in. He sometime lacked motivation, but when it came to computers, he was a genius and worked tirelessly until the job was done.

"What do you think Briggs?"

"I think that teddy would look better with pumps, instead of those boots."

"Very funny, little man," said Lula, "but this girl's serious, we need to catch this asshole."

"Listen, sister, every man looks _little_ compared to you so I'd keep the size comments to yourself."

Before Lula used him for punting practice I broke in, "Briggs, do you think we can trace this site back to the person who created it."

"I can, without a doubt, but it requires two things," he held up his stubby little fingers, "time and money."

Lula was working up to Rhino mode, "Oh my God, I can't believe you'd say that after all you and Steph have been through. She even let you live with her when your apartment was getting fixed."

"Hey, it was her fault my apartment got blown up in the first place! Look, do you know how much it costs to retrofit a condo for someone of my stature? That shit takes money and this job is gonna take a lot of time away from my better paying clients. I take it you want me to locate the site, but also remove all the material so it doesn't come back on line, that shit takes time. I can do it but it'll cost ya."

"How much?"

"Fifteen hundred."

Lula chimed in, "One thousand and I get my friend to give you a blow job. I'm guessing a little dude like you don't get a lot of action."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, tubbo. I bet I get more action than you, and that's saying a lot." I moved to her purse and quietly hid it under a seat cushion, hoping if her gun was in there, it wasn't loaded. For a little guy, Briggs wasn't backing down. "Why do you think I bought the condo, I'm engaged. I get more action than Bruce Willis in Die Hard."

"Oh how cute," said Lula, "it's like that reality T.V. show bout them little people."

"Shit, she ain't a little person, she's taller than you, and way better lookin. I get all the blowjobs I want. You probably even know her, she used to be in your line of work as a bounty hunter."

Connie's eyes narrowed, "What's her name?"

"Joyce."

Connie, Lula, and I looked at each other and froze for a second then busted out in laughter.

"What, you don't believe me?" he smirked.

"Oh no, we believe you alright," laughed Connie, "let me guess, you either gave her a huge loan, gift, or you're doing computer work for her. With Joyce, nobody rides for free."

Briggs was pissed. He grabbed his keys and turned to leave. I quickly pulled up Joyce's Facebook page and showed Briggs that her status was still marked "single" and he was not mentioned anywhere. She also had 457 male "friends" and about 8 women. Briggs studied the screen carefully, and then started typing furiously on the keyboard. He brought up some screen filled with strange codes and e-mailed the page to himself.

Before he left he looked at me, "One thousand bucks," then he turned to Lula, "and get ahold of your friend, I might be needing her services."

Briggs left and I tried to drain my empty wine glass. "How am I going to get a thousand bucks? I promised Val no skips this week and I just used my Rangeman check to pay rent and my Macy's card."

"You'll think of something, girlfriend, you always do," said Lula.

"Ranger got any other jobs he needs done on the side?" asked Connie.

"Yeah, but he ain't paying for those kind of _jobs," _ribbed Lula, and she gave me the you-know-what-I-mean look.

"Speakin' of the Lone Ranger, what's going on with that one there?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. I know Ranger doesn't lie but he has been know to omit a few things. He never talks about his past and he certainly doesn't talk about his future.

"I can imagine the short term with Ranger, and trust me girls, there's nothing _short_ about it, but in the long run, probably not." Shit I didn't want to share that, but it was true. Six weeks had passed, I think most of Trenton knew what happened with Joe, and Ranger usually knew these things before _most people_.

"Maybe you should just make the first move," said Connie, "you know, give him a little encouragement."

"Fuck that," said Lula, "that man needs to pull his head out of his fine ass and make his intentions known. And hopefully they involve the Pleasure Treasure and a bottle of Silky Glide."

We laughed and I walked them to the door, engaging the locks behind them.

I returned to the kitchen and picked up the bottles and sat them in the recycle container. I rinsed the wine glasses and put them in the sink. I wondered what Joyce had needed so badly she would seduce a man like Rangy Briggs. Poor guy, I felt sorry for him when he saw Joyce's profile. I shook the thought out of my head and turned to my computer. I had to find out who was posting the videos and if it cost a thousand bucks, it would be worth it to shut it down. Perhaps there were some clues we missed. I was almost through the last of the porn photos when I sensed I was not alone, my eyes jumped from my laptop to a silent, staring Ranger who had somehow appeared in the kitchen. I let out a startled yelp.

Thank God the screen was facing away from him. My hands instinctively snapped the screen shut. "Don't you ever fucking knock?" I snapped. "Yes, but you were so engrossed, I doubt you would have heard it." I tried to ignore that my face was feeling warm and prickly and attempted to sound casual, staring at the closed computer to avoid Ranger's eyes.

"I'm doing some, um, research."

"What kind of research?" he asked.

"Oh, just involving some… why are you here again?"

"I brought some tools to finish the system install, and I need the serial number off the master control panel, do you have the box?"

My eyes shifted nervously from my laptop on the table, to Ranger, who didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I've got it in the office, just a sec, don't move."

I ran to Albert's office to retrieve what he needed and when I came back Ranger had my laptop open and was looking intently at the screen. My eyes grew wide in horror and I let out a high pitched shriek, "ahhhh, what are you doing, that is private property, how do you know my password?" I reached to snap the screen closed again, but in a flash Ranger grabbed the computer off the table, stood and turned his back to me holding the laptop at arm's length away from me while continuing to scroll through the X-rated pictures.

The look on his face was a mix of concentration, anger, and surprise. He was totally ignoring my pleas, engrossed in the workings of the website. He was perusing an image of me in an auto body shop, stiletto heels, chained to the hood of a cherry-red Camaro, a tall, dark-haired, well endowed man ready with a variety of tools. My face flushed and I reached around the other side to try to snap the computer shut. Ranger pointed to the image before I closed the lid down, "Wait!" he said abruptly, and "I think I have everything we need to do that."

I yanked the laptop from his hands and retreated to the living room holding the device tight across my chest. He had his back to me but I could tell he was shaking in silent laughter. He composed himself, and turned slowly.

"Oh, ha ha, real funny." I said. If that had been his sister in the photos I doubt he'd be laughing, although the look in his eyes was anything but amused.

"It's not what you think," I pleaded, "I wasn't looking at porn."

"No, by the looks of it, you ARE the porn."

"I don't know how this happened" I defended.

He stared at me intently, not sure he was convinced.

"Those photos are NOT me, well, some are of me, or parts of me anyway…Oh HELL!"

When I opened my mouth and inhaled to speak I froze, my eyes trailed off in the distance as I thought how ridiculous any explanation coming from my mouth would sound, after all, there were dozens of photos and what looked like Stephanie Plum, willingly performing oral gymnastics on a variety of men.

"Fuck it" I knew this was serious, and sooner or later I was going to have to show him, so I took a different approach.

"Yep, you're right, I'm a porn star." I declared. I flipped open the screen and set the images to slide show mode. I did a little Vanna White wave in front of the images. "Oh look, here I am in assless chaps, a sheriff's badge, with Hoss and his Colt 45." The image changed and I growled, " You should like this one, looks like a tent in Afghanistan with G.I. Joe and I'm in a see-through Genie outfit."

"Actually, those fatigues are for jungle terrain," Ranger interjected flatly.

The next slide came into view. "Aaahh, I cooed, here we go, my signature look. Bond Enforcement Agent. Hot pants, side holster, handcuffs. Course you've seen me in those before, wearing much less. I don't need a loaded gun, that dude is ready to go." The more I thought about it, the louder my voice got, and I was almost in my full-blown Italian mode. I was pacing now, gesturing with my hands.

"Hell, I'm not making enough bringing in low-level skips for my perverted cousin! I'm surrounded by low-lifes all day, living dangerously without protection! Hmmm, I think I'll moonlight in the adult entertainment industry!" My fist slammed down hard on the table and Rex burrowed into his can.

Ranger straightened his stance, closed the gap between us and gently folded the laptop. He took my hand in his and waited for me to calm before he spoke. "Steph, what do you know about this, what does your gut tell you?" I blew out a full breath and my shoulders slumped. Well, I found the site today. It is linked in a YouTube video someone posted. It looks like it began as just some photos of me from the newspaper, billboard ads and stills from the blooper videos. Now someone has photo shopped my face onto some photos of naked women. Most of the photos have been in the public already, the billboard ads, newspaper photos, but some I don't remember taking. And I think one photo is of me sunbathing topless at my friend's house in Point Pleasant. But the videos linked to the photos, they are not me at all, just someone dressed up in a wig to look like me. Before you busted in here I was trying to figure out where they were shot."

Ranger placed his hands on my hips. He was searching my eyes. "Babe, I'll put Hector on this, he can work on getting the site off line, and possibly trace it back to the source." I scrunched my eyebrows, looked down, and pretended to focus on his jacket. Ranger rested his forehead against mine, "Why the face, babe?" My voice was quiet, "oh, I don't know, it's one thing for you to see me naked cuffed to my shower rod, but this, this is so public, what if people who know me see it?"

"My guess is Vinnie's business will triple, and I may be a little busy keeping all those horny men away from you." When I smiled and lifted my eyes Ranger stole a kiss. It was sweet and innocent at first but soon my lips were sizzling and Rangers tongue was running along my teeth.

"But the videos," he frowned.

"What?" I squeaked from the lip lock, a little worried.

"You have much better legs," and he ran his hands along my hips and down my thighs. My eyes started to close and I gently cupped my hands around his biceps.

"And, a much better ass," he moved his hands up and around rubbing circles on my behind. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, innocently.

"What about my breasts?"

He pulled his head back, cocked it and assessed my front side.

"Hold on, let me just check these out," he said in a low voice. "It's been awhile, maybe 3 minutes, ya know, since I looked at em." He cupped them with his large masculine hands, "oh yeah, no question, definitely better."

We closed the gap between us and started kissing feverishly.

He spoke between gasps, "Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering"

"Huh?"

"Do you think you could get a Genie costume?"

I stiffened up and I swatted him on the ass but the feel of his rock hard muscle under my hand felt so good. I'd had a long day, following a long night, almost a bottle of red wine with no dessert. My stress levels needed leveling and I didn't have to report my discretions to the Church until tomorrow. I knew I had sort of decided that I wasn't giving in to Ranger until we had an understanding, whatever that meant. But now I was trying to find a loophole in my logic. I had about 18 hours to rack up some good sins. A few of the website images popped to mind and my pulse quickened. Ranger felt the change in me and growled, he swooped me up and carried me to the sofa.

He had me straddled on his lap and I felt as though we were in High School making out on my parent's couch. My bra had been removed beneath my shirt and Ranger's hands were underneath exploring the topographical map of my chest. He was sucking on my Adam's apple and I felt him smile when I groaned. My fingers traced lightly around his ears and massaged into the back of his head pushing him into my neck. I moved my hands down his neck and gave him a shoulder rub as I tilted my pelvis and ground it over his hardened arousal. He moaned, "God, Babe." He held both breasts in his hands and rolled my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. I was starting to lift his shirt off when he grabbed my wrists and froze, head cocked to the stairway, eyes alert.

In a moment the light in the upstairs hallway came on and cast a soft light down the stairway. I could hear little footsteps in the upstairs hall. In a flash I had my bra hidden, Ranger's shirt was down and we were sitting properly 2 feet apart on the sofa. I exhaled after the light switched off and a bedroom door closed.


	10. Chapter 10

**This is my first long story, please bear with me. Trying to tie it together and keep it flowing. A little angsty, I know but still plenty of humor. And I promise, confession or not, Steph will get some action eventually. **

**I don't own these characters or make money from them.**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

Sunday morning, my last day of freedom before Sister Camilla and the Spanish Inquisition. I had a few errands to run for some of the people on the cruise. Before Ranger left last night he told me he would be over in the afternoon to finish the alarm install.

The girls and I loaded into my car and drove to the Tasty Pastry; we grabbed some donuts, coffee and juice and headed for St. Francis Hospital. When we got there Grandma was sitting up in bed, flipping through the high digit cable channels. "Well lookie here, my favorite girls."

"How's it goin Gram?"

"Thank God it's Sunday and everybody's at church, I can finally get some rest. This place has been like Grand Central, I thought they were gonna hand out numbers. I gotta look good cause Big Jim's coming over before he goes to the Early Bird Special at Denny's."

We put the drinks and donuts on the little rolling tray table and dug in. Gram turned the television to some cartoons and the girls sat down and became engrossed in Sponge Bob.

"So, how's it with you baby cakes, how are you holdin' up?"

"Oh, you know me Gram, just pluggin along. Just working at Rangeman this week, no skips, I promised Val."

"O.K. no chasing bad guys," she said, "but, maybe there's someone else who needs chasing?" She raised her eyebrows and pointed to the yellow bouquet of flowers with the black card in Ella's handwriting. "You don't think those are really for me do ya?" She always had a way to cut right to it.

"Yeah but Grahm, I'm just not sure."

"Stephie girl, Before I met your Grandpa Mazur, I used to ask my dad, when am I gonna meet someone, ya know, who's right for me? And my dad, he used to say, 'Sweetie, get yourself a beau only when you can't think of anything better to do'," and you know, he was right.

"So, what I think you are saying is, you had done all you wanted to do before you met Grandpa and that's why it lasted so long?"

Grandma laughed, "Hell no, baby cakes, that man was a big pain in my ass, but I did love the ol horse's patoot. Ya see, my daddy was right but I didn't listen, I had lots of livin' I should have done before I met him. And you had lots of things you wanted to do before Dickie, or Joe even, so if you aren't sure, just ask yourself 'what better things do I have to do?'"

We ate the rest of our donuts and watched cartoons for awhile, then Grandma turned to us, "now shoo and get outta here, Clara's coming to do my hair."

The girls and I loaded up and made our rounds. One of our last stops was Mrs. Ciak across the street from my parents'. She wasn't on the cruise, but she was in Florida visiting her daughter, and since my mother would usually take care of her plants when she was away, the job now fell to me.

We went to my parents' first and I dug in the frig and came up with a little lunch. I found cheese and tortillas and made some quesadillas. Angie suggested cutting them into little triangles and topping them with some sour cream and salsa, Ole! I may not be a great cook, but it beat the hell out of Taco Bell.

The girls were finishing up their lunch so I decided to run across the street. I felt around on top of the door frame and produced the spare key. The door opened and I gasped. I knew Mrs. Ciak didn't equal my mother in housekeeping, but wow, her standards had really slipped. Drawers were open and papers were tossed about and it looked like she had been rearranging her curio cabinet.

"Uh oh," I said, "this is a crime scene."

I sat on my parents' steps and waited for the cops to arrive. Carl was first on the scene; I crossed the street to hand him the key and Morelli decided to show up, followed by a couple of new guys. "Well, well," I said, "look who took a break from eating my cheesecake long enough to get some work done." Carl took my statement, which basically said I opened the door, looked around, closed the door and called the cops. I turned to walk down the stairs and brushed by Joe.

"What's the matter Cupcake, sugar a quart low?" he said frontin' with the new guys in tow.

"Screw off Morelli."

"Yeah, you'd like that, but I don't need you for that anymore." He looked to the new guys who gave small, uncomfortable smiles. Wow, that was a little mean, even for Joe.

"Whatever Joe, I don't really give a shit."

I continued to walk down the stairs, but he stalked back to me and grabbed my arm.

"You know what's wrong with you, Stephanie Plum? You're not satisfied with what you've got. You always think there's something better out there. Well I got news for you: Prince Charming ain't gonna come for ya, especially when you eat your weight in Tasty Cakes and play hide-the-salami with little brown boys."

So, there it was. I looked at Joe's hand on my arm then looked at Carl. "Somebody better move that hand," Carl walked toward us but Joe released me and I shrugged away and walked across the street.

By the time I got back to Val's it was almost four o'clock. I put the manicotti in the oven to bake and pulled out a bag of salad. Ranger walked in and saw my mother's note on the counter.

_Dear Stephanie,_

_1) Preheat oven to 350 (use that little round black dial with the numbers on it, turn clockwise until 350 is even with the little red line)_

_2) Leave the foil on and place pan on rack in the center of the oven, bake 50 minutes. Don't forget to set the timer, (the other dial that looks like a little clock)_

_3) Call Joe and invite him to dinner. I know you will, because he has your favorite you-know-what cake, and remind him to set the tiramisu in the refrigerator to thaw._

_Love,_

_Mom_

"My mother, can you believe it, she gave that ass hat my desserts."

Ranger studied the contents of the notes and gave a tight smile, "Well, it's devious, but I have to admire her tact," he said.

I thought aloud, "There are three places he coulda stashed them, I'm guessing basement freezer, I'll know more when I get in."

"You're going over there?" asked Ranger.

"Not when he's _home_, he's working a big case, he'll never know."

Ranger stared at me in disbelief, "You're gonna break into a cop's house?"

"No, I'm gonna wait till he goes to work and use his hidden spare key."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not, but that's how much I love my mom's pineapple up-side-down cake. Besides, he's fencing stolen property."

"Babe, you know that won't stick, your mother _gave_ him the goods."

"Look, after that close call last night, I think I'm gonna need all the sugar I can get." And I wasn't referring to one of the girls busting us.

Ranger stepped in front of me so we were toe to toe. He waited for me to meet his eyes and his voice dropped low, "I don't know, Babe, you seemed to function just fine last night without any dessert." Then he bent down and gave me a hot kiss on the lips.

When I caught my breath and looked up, Angie and Mary Alice were standing in the dining room staring at us. They broke out in smiles and loudly Angie began and Mary Alice joined in, "Steffie and Ranger sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G. First comes love, then comes…."

"Angela Louise!" I barked, "I started stalking toward her, "Wait till I see that little Michael Potuto on Monday."

"Yeah," Mary Alice, switching allegiances, dog-piling her sister, "Horse's Potuto!"

"Don't call him that, creep!" screamed Angie. We all froze and the room got quiet.

"Angie, shh, I was just teasing."

Her face was beet red as she turned on her sister, "Well, she is, she's, she's always… embarrassing me!" Angie began to sob. "And I don't want to ride to school in a blue whale, or your stupid car!" She turned and ran past Ranger up the stairs and I heard her room door slam.

"Hey," I said to no one in particular, "that car gets 37 miles to the gallon and it's paid for." I locked eyes with Ranger and he tilted his head to the ceiling. I nodded, my shoulders slumped, and I walked toward the stairs.

I knocked lightly on Angie's door but got no response. I could hear her soft sobs and sniffles coming from her bed so I gently pushed the door ajar?  
"May I come in," I asked softly. She didn't respond so I sat lightly on the edge of her bed and placed my hand on her leg.

"I'm sorry I teased you, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Angie quieted a bit and then she began to speak through her sobs, "It's just that, well, I really like Michael Potuto. We used to be good friends."

"Oh, so like a boyfriend?" I cringed, knowing she was way to young to be thinking in those terms.

"No, not even like that, I mean, he is different from the other boys, he's sweet, and smart and funny and we would practice our Spanish together, he's was just my good friend."

"And what happened, why do you say he _was _your friend? I asked.

"There's this girl at school, see, and she likes him. Like-likes him. She told me I'd better leave him alone, and that he wouldn't like me anyway cause my sister is a freak and she even said some things about you being in the news and all when your apartment caught fire, and how we probably stock up on marshmallows and graham crackers."

"Is this girl named Josie?" Angie's eyes got big and she reluctantly nodded her head.

"Did she say something to you on Friday, when I picked you up at school?" "Yeah, she said your car looks like a Christmas tree, and she started calling me 'jingle bells." I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well it _is_ sort of a greenish, brownish, and it has that red hood." I looked at Angie and smiled. Then I just sat there for a long while waiting.

After what seemed forever, she sniffled and mumbled into her pillow, "more like, a Christmas Tree, three months _after_ Christmas," then we both giggled a little.

"Yeah just think, it'll be totally in style come December," I added. Angie sat up and hugged me tight. She buried her head in my arms, "I'm so sorry Aunt Steph, I'm really sorry I said those things to you."

"Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to find a way to accept Mary Alice."

Angie grimaced a bit, but slowly nodded her head "O.K." We headed to the bathroom to fix her tears and my mascara.

**RPOV**

I sat down on the sofa, opened up Battleship and gestured for Mary Alice to take the blue station. She started to set up her ships silently. Stephanie was upstairs talking to Angela after her outburst in the kitchen. Something was definitely going on with that girl and it looked like there was a boy involved. My mother always told my sisters "boys are nothing but trouble" and was she right. If this had been my daughter, right now I would have the schematics to the little dude's house pulled up on my laptop working out the abduction so I wouldn't wake the parents.

I looked over at Mary Alice. She seemed to be un-phased by the whole event.

"Ladies first," I gestured.

"B 2," she said.

"Miss."

A few toys were scattered where she had been playing on the floor. It looked like a Super Friends convention gathered in a top-secret meeting. Robin and Wonder Woman were front-and-center de-briefing G.I. Joe and Commando Ken. Batman was a few feet away wrapped in Wonder Woman's golden lasso, with his head sticking out of an empty Kleenex box.

"E 5." You got this Manoso, start in the middle, canvas in a circular pattern.

"Miss."

I looked at the lonely figurine again and had to ask, "What's up with Batman?"

"He's in trouble, he's having a timeout in the hot box," said Mary Alice.

"He must have done something really bad." I'd been thrown in the hole before, but I'd also concocted some of my best escape plans there.

"D 4, no, he was naughty to Wonder Woman." Hmm, but sometimes naughty can be good.

"Hit." Crap. "That doesn't sound like him," I said.

"Yeah, he's usually the good guy, but then I heard my mom and Aunt Steffie talking about him in the kitchen the other day while I was coloring, and I figured he needed a time-out."

"They were talking about Batman?" I asked.

"Yes, and it's your turn," she said.

"Um. A 1."

"Miss."

"Now what about Batman?" I repeated.

"Yeah, they talk about him all the time when they're drinking wine." _Now_ I was alert, I looked at the stairs and asked in a whisper, "What did Aunt Steffie say about Batman?"

"C 4."

"Hit." Crap, "You were saying?"

Mary Alice looked to her left and right then whispered, "Batman disappears all the time. My Mom told Aunt Steffie it must be because Batman is 'a motionally unbehaveable,' or something like that. It's some sickness you don't want to get."

Shit. "I see, G 5."

"Miss." Of course.

"Like one time, the mean General Brusy was after Wonder Woman and Batman went to her house to guard her that night, but then the next day he vanished, and she was _not_ happy, C 3." I warily put the red peg on my cruiser, "Hit," I said. Mary Alice squealed and clapped her hands.

She continued, "Then Batman said if Wonder Woman didn't like it she could go play with the Joker and have _him_ guard her, which don't make no sense cause everybody knows the Joker is NOT a superhero." Oh crap, I knew _exactly_ what Stephanie had been talking about with Valerie. That woman isn't gonna let me live that down. I called out another coordinate and Mary Alice lightly giggled, "miss." Who the hell chose this game?

As if I hadn't been tortured enough, Mary Alice kept talking, "Mommie told Aunt Steffie Batman must be that way from the 'a motionally unbehavable' disease, and once you get it, you never get better, and Wonder Woman should forget about Batman and think about Match Dot Com, B 4."

Mother, sonofa, faaaa. I hung my head

"Are you alright Sarge?"

Kid, if you only knew, "You sunk my Battleship."

Mary Alice continued, completely un-phased, "Wonder Woman said she would still work with Batman, but something about never sharing her pie with him ever again."

My jaw tightened, "A. TWO," I regulated through clenched teeth. The white peg between my fingers snapped in half. My heart was racing in a panic, and I knew it wasn't from the game. Mary Alice called "miss" and I silently mimicked her with a sour look on my face.

"When did you hear this?" at least go for second prize and get the info.

"It was Easter, I remember cause Aunt Steffie came over in a pretty dress and had black eye stuff all over her cheeks. She told my mom the Joker was caught kissing Cat woman. And now Wonder Woman has moved all of her things out of the Joker's lair. And my mom, I remember this, because she said a naughty word I can't repeat, my mom said 'Wonder Woman never should have listened to that 'blankety-blank' Batman.'"

I didn't want to think about the ethicality of eliciting information from a 7-year-old but she was a wealth of knowledge and normally, I'd have to use my maglight on a kneecap to extract this level of intel.

"Is Wonder Woman, ya know, did she use the Match Dot Com?" I asked casually.

"Um I don't really know what that is, do you want me to ask aunt Steffie?"

"No, no, no! We don't want to bother her with all the stuff going on with your sister." I opened my eyes wide and pointed upstairs.

We continued on with the game in almost silence. Mary Alice had managed to find all of my ships, probably because I had them all linked together to form a pixilated letter "S" in the middle of my grid.

"Just one more question," I looked at action figure Batman suffering in the hot box, "if it's been a few weeks, why is Batman still locked up in the hole?"

Mary Alice leveled a look at me, and her eyes got very serious, "cause _nobody_ gets away with being naughty to Wonder Woman."

The game was finished; she had won, so I peaked over to see what configuration had caused me to fail so miserably. My back stiffened and I stared at Mary Alice. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah, hangman's gallows, cool isn't it?"

Wow, out of the mouths of babes. My Abeula used to say, "you can't fool kids, and you can't fool dogs." Mary Alice is proof of that, and apparently, you can't fool Stephanie Plum. She thinks I'm an emotionally unavailable asshole and her sister is encouraging her to cut her losses, and move on. This situation cannot stand. I was going to have to stop dragging my ass and do something about it.

Stephanie descended the stairs, followed by a formerly teary-eyed Angela. Ella had just arrived and all the girls met in the kitchen in a little pow-wow discussing the dinner plans before Stephanie left. I said goodbye to Ella and to the girls and walked with Stephanie out the back door. She seemed a little nervous, like she was waiting for me to leave and she was being very secretive about what she was doing and where she was going. Not that I needed to know, I had no claim on her, but my radar was going off and my curiosity was peaked.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

She looked nervous and shook her head and walked a little faster. "No, s'okay, I'm good, but thanks."

"C'mon Babe, I'll drive you," I said.

"No really Ranger, I can get there myself."

"I know you can but I want to talk to you about some things, and this is as good time as ever."

"Ranger, this isn't a good time _for me_," she said forcefully. "And, you know, I'm kind of busy with the girls this week, but maybe we could catch up after Friday." She gave me a forced smile.

"O.K., How about dinner then?"

"Yeah, maybe, but right now I gotta go."

I held up my hands and stood back. There were few things Stephanie Plum wouldn't tell me. They usually fell into two categories: dangerous and Morelli. But she had promised her sister she wouldn't chase skips or do anything reckless. As far as Morelli, she had been broken up with him past the expiration date and he had been seen out with other women, _lots_ of other women. That left a third option I didn't want to consider, maybe she was seeing someone else. She opened the cab door and got in.

**Stephanie's Point of View**

The Church of Our Lady of Guadeloupe was two blocks off Stark in a neighborhood that still had a little hope left. True, many houses had disguised bars on their windows and were small, but they were neat with orderly yards and in that area, the street was mostly quiet. Most importantly, I was ninety-eight percent certain none of the Priests would know me.

I had the cab drop me off for my covert operation. I got into my purse and took out a brown hat with a floppy wide brim and large bug eyed dark sunglasses. I hiked my handbag up on my shoulder like a shield and ducked into the side door. The church was old. Our Lady was originally called St. Michaels but had morphed from Italian to Spanish over the last few decades.

I entered the sanctuary and gave my eyes time to adjust. With the dark glasses on, I had to strain; I crossed myself with holy water and knelt in a pew a few rows back.

The church was laid out like so many built in that era. The main doors opened into a foyer and a second set of double doors opened to a large center aisle that ran straight up to the altar, rows of pews on each side.

There were also two wings that had smaller sections of pews. In one wing, the pews faced the Tabernacle where the little white wafers were kept and congregants took turns praying in perpetual adoration. The opposing wing housed the baptismal font, and the confessionals, three closet type doors in a row with little lights above each door. If a light was lit above the door, the room was occupied.

The center light was lit which meant the priest was in and ready to hear my confession, and just my luck, both closets were empty and nobody else was waiting to go in. I wouldn't even have time to be "on deck," I would enter and right away be up to the plate. I slipped my phone out of my bag and brought up my newest app. Being from Jersey I thought I'd seen everything but "Sin No More" was proof ingenuity was alive and well. It was a phone app that guided you through figuring out where you have failed miserably in you life and how to throw yourself on God's mercy. And it had Spanish translation.

I said a prayer for courage and slipped into an empty closet and dropped to the kneeler in front of the little privacy screen. In a moment I heard the whoosh of a second screen being slid open and the Priest began to speak in Spanish. So far my plan was working. I would give my confession in Spanish, best I could. He would give me the absolution and my penance and, ta-da, clean slate.

The Priest began in the Spanish tradition, "Ave Maria purísima" (Hail purest Mary) His voice was low and kind, and even with the screen between us, and in the small space it felt very intimate.

I looked at my phone and gave the appropriate response, "Sin pecado concebida" (conceived without sin)

"Hace cuanto que no te haz confesado?" He was asking how long it had been since my last confession. I scrolled through my phone and found the response.

"Que ha pasado cinco anos." (It has been five years.) He waited.

I creatively admitted to my sins in a mis-mash of Spanglish, referring to the app when I needed. I can't be certain but here's what I think I said:

"I have taken the Lord's name in vain," an ongoing battle.

"I have not kept Holy the Lord's day," unless you count Christmas and Easter, a little vague on the timeline.

"I have dishonored my mother," by refusing to marry Joseph Morelli and have a bunch of kids, although doing so would get me off the hook on the next sin, the biggie.

"I have had impure thoughts and actions." Way more impure thoughts, and nowhere near enough action. This sort of covered all the bases, I didn't feel it was necessary to give specifics like 'monkey sex' or 'shower massager', it was sort of understood, I thought. Besides, this one always confused me. I took adultery to mean never have sex if only one of you is married. This left out the whole singles hookups, booty calls, and friends with benefits clause. Since the writing was vague, I took a "don't ask, don't tell" approach to this commandment.

"That is all Padre." I breathed a little sigh of relief, this was going better than I thought, just give me the punishment, I'll take the wrap, say the five Hail Mary's and be on my way.

He acknowledged my admittance in Spanish, and then asked if I had anything else to add. "Y hay algo mas?" (There is something more?)

Now I hadn't expected this question, and I don't know where it came from, but I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and before I knew it my lips were moving betraying me and I didn't have the app ready so I spoke in English, "well, since my last confession, I shot a man, and, well, he died, Maté a un hombre." (I killed a man)

Oh crap, where had THAT come from?

The privacy screen went dead silent and I was getting a little worried, then I thought I heard him whispering in a low voice and I was wondering if he was on his cell phone calling the Trenton Police Department, Homicide Division.

I heard him take a breath and then he fired off what I thought were questions in Spanish, but I did not understand. I was typing quickly on my phone, trying to translate, my hands were shaking nervously and I fumbled my phone and it fell somewhere beneath the kneeler out of sight.

"Slower, por favor, no entiendo." (Slow, please, I don't understand)

He spoke again, slower, but I still couldn't grasp the question.

"No entiendo." (I don't understand). Why had I opened my big mouth? "Please," I said the only way I knew how, "I'd like to retract that last statement."

Then, he shocked me when, in perfect English he spoke.

"Forgive me Miss, but I must have clarification." The gig was up, no more language barrier to hide behind. He understood perfectly what I was saying and vice-versa.

"What were the circumstances leading up to such an event? Did you intend to shoot the man?" I sighed heavily.

"Yes, Father, I was trying to shoot him."

"Was your life in danger?"

"Well, yes, maybe, I thought it was," I said.

"Were you engaging in any criminal activity at the time?"

Aside from carrying a concealed handgun and aiding a fugitive from the law. "No."

"Please explain." He coaxed.

"I was attempting to apprehend someone."

"You are a police officer?"

"No, bond enforcement agent." Great, now he probably knows who I am.

"The man shot me and was holding us at gunpoint."

"Us?"

"Me and the skip, he was there."

"So you saved a man's life." I didn't answer.

"Senorita, I cannot allow you to repent your actions for that day. It is written in Ezekiel, 'But if the watchman sees the sword coming and does not blow the trumpet, and the people are not warned, and the sword comes and takes a person from them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood I will require from the watchmen's hand.'" The sword was coming for _you_, my dear, and no blood from you He will require."

A tear ran silently down my cheek and pooled in the rim of the large sunglasses. I focused on his voice trying to still myself.

"You don't need forgiveness, you need assurance." A small sniffle escaped, and I took in a few deep breaths.

"The Lord instructs us to preserve human life. In Psalms he says 'Rescue the weak and needy; Deliver them out of the hand of the wicked." A lump formed in my throat. This is not what I intended. I did not want to face this, not now, not ever.

He continued in the strong soft voice, "Proverbs says 'Deliver those who are drawn toward death, And hold back those stumbling to the slaughter." He was trying to assure me about using my gun to be a deliverer to Joe, but my mind drifted to the image of Ranger walking into my apartment armed with only a flack jacket. And in that moment I was able to somehow understand why Ranger did the things he did, from tracking my car to pushing me away, and I was no longer upset with him for not being able to tell me that he loved me. I tried to swallow the lump and another tear fell down my cheek.

"I can see you have carried this for too long, Seniorita, which tells me you do not seek the help you often need. Asking for help is not a weakness. For your penance, say one Act of Contrition, and for this week, when you need help, ask for it, and if any help is offered to you, you must not refuse it. And now I give the absolution. En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén."

As I exited the closet, a small Hispanic woman slipped in behind me. Two others were waiting now and the other door had the light on. I slid into a pew in the main section about halfway back and released a large sigh. I finished my prayer and just stayed kneeling there for a while. My elbows were propped up on the pew, and my forehead rested on my steepled hands. My eyes were closed in quiet contemplation and I could hear the people pass in and out of the confessional closets, kneel, then whisper their prayers.

A number of people had arrived for Mass and there was some activity on the altar. I walked to the statue of Mary and put some money in the little drop box. I lit a candle for my Grandma in the hospital, I lit a candle for Ranger my deliverer, and I lit a candle for Jimmie Alpha. A group of women gathered by the Tabernacle to pray the Rosary and the organist started playing a few random notes. I noticed the Priest exiting the confessional. He was young, handsome even, with wavy dark hair and deep-set eye, not what I had envisioned by his voice. He started walking my way and I panicked, thinking he would know who I was, but he kept his eyes set on the altar and walked right by me as though I wasn't even there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Happy Friday! I have to say I am proud of this chapter. I was able to work in some steamy scenes that give this story it's "M" rating without Stephanie breaking her vow of chastity! And especially, t****hank you**** for all the reviews! I understand now why people request them because they really get me going. I have the following chap ready to go, just needs an edit. **

**I don't own or pimp out any of these characters.**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

The alarm went off at seven a.m. and I sat straight up in bed before hitting the snooze and plopping back down. Ten minutes later I was trudging out of bed and calling to the girls to get up. Angie's room was empty, her bed was made and I could hear her downstairs. Mary Alice was standing in the bathroom with a comb stuck, completely entangled in her hair. I started working on the comb while she brushed her teeth. I knew daily mass was fairly casual but I decided to wear a turquoise sweater set with a multi-colored abstract print skirt that flared a little at the bottom and fell just below my knees. I added a pair of low-wedge tan Bandolino sling-backs and some simple gold jewelry. Thirty minutes later both girls were dressed in their school uniforms, Rex had been fed, the cereal bowls were in the dishwasher and we were headed out the back door.

The dew was sparkling on the grass and a few birds were chirping. There was still a slight chill in the air but the sun held the promise of a warm day, thankfully not warm enough to awaken the toxins that would be radiating off the asphalt in waves come July. In Jersey, Spring was a glorious, but brief time of year.

I was holding my keys and noticed they had sprouted an extra key fob. The car fairy had come in the middle of the night; parked next to the garage was a black Chevy Tahoe. I loaded the girls in and we headed for Blessed Sacrament Elementary.

"Did you get a new car, Aunt Steffie?" asked Mary Alice."

"It smells like it's brand new," said Angie.

"Put on your seatbelts. This isn't my car; I'm borrowing it from my work. Sometimes they let employees use their cars."

The girls liked it when I put the SUV in reverse and the back-up camera image appeared on the consol.

"Wow, I didn't know cousin Vinnie was so cool!"

I pulled into the cutout and lingered there, hoping little Josie would see us in a normal car, acting like normal people. Well, normal people who just happen to have bulletproof windows, wrapped with jet-black window tint, and a Ruger hidden under the spare tire. I let the girls out, and then parked in the visitor's lot.

I had butterflies, just like my first day of school. The angst came flooding back as I escorted my nieces into the church. The school children took up the first 10 rows. I was stationed in the last row on the left side. The girls waved as they left to join their classes. Mary Alice was in the third row, and Angie was across the aisle and up two rows from mine. Blessed Sacrament was much like Our Lady in architecture and layout. I slunk awkwardly into my pew, and nodded at the row of fifth graders next to me. I dropped to the kneeler and closed my eyes in feigned prayer. Well, technically I was praying, praying somehow to get out of this situation. A few more regulars straggled into the church and the organ began piping a hymn.

Daily Mass has its regular attendants: the ancient, the retirees, the radically religious, and the two hundred students from Blessed Sacrament Elementary School. I recognized some of Grandma's friend from the Clip-N-Curl sitting in the east wing next to the baptismal font and of course Grandma Bella and her entourage held court on the west side. Grandma Bella looked at me, crossed herself then looked to heaven as if a miracle had just occurred.

Sister Camilla walked down the center aisle with a clipboard, acknowledging my presence as she made a mark on the paper. I was being monitored; there would be no early escape or ducking communion today.

Mr. Paglionne from my building was sitting in the Lectern's seat. I was glad for him, that he had something to keep him busy in retirement, but sad for myself; I once heard him reading an obituary to Mrs. Bestler while riding the elevator and he took at least three round trips to finish. Little Michael Potuto emerged from the sacristy carrying the candle lighter followed by Joey Schnabel and Father McMahon. Thankfully, the daily masses were shortened a bit with only one reading. If Father McMahon didn't get too windy on the homily, and Mr. Paglionne kept pace, and the organist kept the hymns to two verses, I could be out of here in forty-five, fifty minutes tops.

The physical parts of the mass - I could do them with my eyes closed thanks to years of painful conditioning, so I set my 'stand, sit, and kneel' on auto-pilot and decided to use this time to tune out the rest of the world and contemplate the current course of my life. What was it I wanted, exactly? I thought about that question as we progressed thru the opening rites and Mr. Paglionne's short reading, and we were almost to the responsorial psalm; so far all I could come up with were things I _didn't_ want in my life: pantyhose and Joe Morelli.

Eventually Father McMahon got to the gospel and he gave a fast and easy sermon about "choosing our path in life" and "making good decisions." It was a re-hashed version of a sermon Father Dalussi once gave when he was in a hurry to get to the racetrack.

When I was a kid, we thought Father Dalussi spent Tuesday and Thursday mornings visiting the shut-in and infirmed, when in truth, he was operating as the Burg bet runner. It wasn't like it was a big secret either. Call the rectory on Monday or Wednesday before four p.m. and you were put on the pick-up list for the following day. Father Dalussi carried a neat little black briefcase, embossed with a gold cross. Inside were all the tools require for a spiritual emergency: oils for last rights, communion wafers, wine, King James bible, and of course, racing forms and a black zippered money pouch. After his morning rounds he would slip off his white collar, don a sport jacket and head to Monmouth Park in Oceanpoint.

The mass continued. We rolled through the Nicene Creed and some organ music, and the kids in my section were well behaved, for most of the service. A few were drawing pictures on their bulletins and passing notes and I held a lookout for Sister Camilla, clearing my throat whenever she turned her head our way. I tried again to think about what I wanted to do with my life. I'd gotten a college degree and worked in a retail business but that didn't really seem to mean much to me.

Finally Father McMahon got the chalice out of the fancy box on the altar. He did his kneeling, and genuflecting, and he poured the wine and broke the host in half. I was mouthing along with him and answering the responses with my eyes closed. And then he said "Let us offer each other the sign of peace," and the kids in my row got very goofy when they had to say "peace be with you," and made a point of shaking hands with as many of their friends as they could, and of course none of the kids wanted to shake hands with the "old lady" on the end who they thought was probably someone's mom. I turned to see if there was anyone behind me to greet and I came face-to-face with a familiar Cuban. He offered me his hand and it took me a moment; I slipped my fingers into his smooth open palm, he enclosed my hand and a warm current moved up my arm.

"Peace be with you, Babe."

I lingered, but slowly turned back around because we had to kneel and we would soon be going up to communion.

Ranger was wearing a simple black long sleeved button up shirt and black pants with no pockets. I almost laughed, because if he were wearing the little white collar, he would look like a priest, a very sexy priest. "Steady Stephanie," I told myself, "you're on the wagon."

When it was time for our row to go up to communion, I sidestepped out of my pew and followed the students up the center aisle toward Father McMahon. The organ was playing "Crown him With Many Crowns" and I was slowly inching forward in the line with my hands folded in front of me. I received communion in the traditional style. Michael Potuto held the gold paten under my chin in case the priest's hand accidentally touched my tongue, and I gagged and spit out the host. Luckily that didn't happen, and I didn't end up with the host lodged in my throat either, and lightening didn't strike me down. I turned left and walked away from the center aisle and rounded the corner to return to my seat. Ranger was still there, kneeling in the same spot in the eleventh row, his elbows rested on my seat back, hands steepled in front of his face. His eyes were closed but I'm sure somehow he was monitoring his surroundings.

When we had all returned to our seats the priest sat in his fancy chair which meant we could sit too, and he probably needed to burn a little time off the clock because he had finished a little too early for the school kids to be dismissed. I sat and rested my back against the seat and I could feel Ranger still kneeling up close behind me, breathing in my ear. He smelled sexy as heck and he lightly whispered and his lips grazed my cheek.

"What are you doing after this?" He was so close, I could almost taste his minty breath and I involuntarily licked my lips. Oh heaven help me, not now, I have four days to go.

"I would like to talk to you," he said. But what I was thinking about didn't involve talking.

Mass ended, we had to stand, kneel and sit one last time, the organ played and I walked my charges across the parking lot to the school. Ranger and I were at the tail end of the group and the teachers were already leading their classes into the double doors. Mary Alice turned and waved before entering the building. We were still in the parking lot and I was looking for Angie, then I spotted her "Uh oh." Ranger scanned the lot and locked in on Angie who was standing at the end of the sidewalk that lead into the building. Josie and her posse were standing shoulder to shoulder close to the doors, blocking the entrance. Other kids just walked around them, but Angie stood frozen, fifteen feet away, not daring to approach. I was back a good ten yards and I started to quicken my pace and walk toward the scene when a strong hand clamped on my arm and pulled me back.

"But I have to help her." I said.

"But, this isn't the way to do it."

Wow, in all our time together, I couldn't remember hearing Ranger say those words to me and it made me pause. He pulled me up next to him and had his arm around my shoulder; he looked at me, and then nodded toward Angie. We surveyed the scene together and he spoke in a calm voice.

"This is like a battle, whether it's a gang, or the army, or combat, or siblings going at it." He turned and leaned in toward me, looking in my eyes, "and I have personal experience in each of those areas. You have to let this play out a little longer, find out what she's dealing with here, and see how she handles it."

My Italian genes did not like his opinion and I wanted to tell him so, but he was offering his services, and I didn't want to void my penance, so I just stood by him and waited.

More of the kids had passed into the school building, and I feared before long, Angie would be out there alone with the brood. My heart was racing and I contemplated taking a step, but I felt Rangers hand squeeze my shoulder and I stayed in place. And then, before the last few kids funneled through, Michael Potuto, who had been in the sacristy changing out of his church vestments, came running across the parking lot, caught Angie by the hand, and swept her into the building. The bell rung and the three stooges startled, and ran for their classrooms.

Ranger and I stood there for a moment, staring at the school doors.

Finally I spoke, "oh my gosh, how cute was that?"

"Yeah, I'd say he's got it bad."

"Well, she says they're just friends."

"Heh, heh, heh, I've heard that before." Was he talking about anyone specific?

"And just how do _you_ know he's got it bad?"

"Cause if that were me, I'd be terrified of that Barnhardt girl."

I laughed at the thought of Ranger being afraid of anyone. His arm was still around my shoulder and he started to turn me toward him but I was trying to keep it all business.

"So, you have something you want to talk to me about?" I asked.

Just then his phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. "Looks like someone tried to break into a couple of our accounts last night. I gotta go check these out. Where will you be around noon?"

"I'm meeting Connie at the bonds office." I said.

He turned and headed across the street to his Beemer.

I watched his backside as he strode to his vehicle. The phrase "sex on legs" didn't begin to describe him. And I knew he was wheedling his way back into my life. I had to protect myself. I can't give in to these urges, especially not now, not this week. I was gonna have to make that trip to Morelli's.

I jumped into the black Tahoe. It really was a cool vehicle. I figured I could make all my little errands by eleven, grab something from Cluck-In-a-Bucket, meet Connie at the bonds office, and be at Joe's in time for dessert.

**Ranger's Point of View**

I headed down Hamilton toward Division to meet with my next client. Since the rash of burglaries, I had made it a point to personally visit with all the clients in the area. I had checked on the two break-in attempts and neither had been breached. According to the police report they could not link the burglary victims, but I was sure it was the same thief and I was sure the victims were _not_ chosen at random. We'd had five attempts on client's houses in the past two weeks, and in each case, the burglar had tried to manually override the system using default codes. I'm not talking about the security code a homeowner uses to turn on and off their alarm. I'm talking about codes security companies use when they work on their systems so they don't need the client's passcode. But at Rangeman, we don't allow the capability to override a system on site. The tech has to call into Rangeman where the system is turned off. That way, if a system is breeched, they never have to wonder if one or our employees is moonlighting as a cat burglar.

As I drove, I thought about Stephanie at church this morning. I'd snuck in shortly after mass began and sat right behind her. She was definitely not aware of her surroundings, but I couldn't be upset with her because she looked so angelic kneeling and praying. I decided then I had to find whoever had created that website and shut them down. I couldn't let that darkness encroach on her radiance. I'd had Tank and Hector working on it, trying to protect her privacy, but we'd hit a few roadblocks.

I called Tank to get the latest update.

"Yo."

"Nothing on the robberies yet," he said. "All the victims had travel plans of some kind, but Hector can't find any pattern there."

"What about that other issue?" I asked.

Tank gave his update on Stephanie's unauthorized porn site; "Hector has scrubbed the site links from as many places as possible. The money from the subscriptions is going into an offshore account, but we're having a hard time figuring out a way to shut it down completely. It's still online, but it's no longer advertising, and one more thing." When Tank said "one more thing," it was usually one more _bad_ thing.

"Talk," I said.

"I also have a list of all the people in the area who've looked at the site, I thought this could point us to the source." Tank said.

"Anybody we know?" I asked, sure I was not going to like the answer.

"Some of the usual perverts," he read off a list, "Harry the Horse, Jamal Alou, Stuart Baggett, Madame Zaretski, The Reverend Bill, William Earling, Bernard Kunz, Mr. Alexander…"

I interrupted, "I thought he was gay."

"Maybe not," said Tank.

"Anyone else?" I asked.

Tank cleared his throat, "uh hem, Joe Morelli and Lester Santos," he took a breath, and I hit my brakes in the middle of Hamilton. "And ten minutes ago Vincent Plum accessed the site from the bonds office, in fact, I see he just used his credit card to get full access to all of the videos."

I was gripping the steering wheel so tight I left indentions in the leather cover. I would deal with Santos later, but now, the thought of slimy Vinnie with his eyeballs all over the images of Stephanie, thinking dark thoughts about her, made me shudder. I skidded my car around.

I made it down Hamilton in two minutes. I saw Vinnie's Caddy pull up to the curb so I pulled in tight behind him and got out. I used my don't-fuck-with-me voice, "what are you doing?" I barely had a lid on it. Vinnie looked surprised and looked behind him in both directions. He swallowed hard, "I've, I was at the courthouse, you know that big case, Pauley Felder was today," he held up a check for fifty thousand dollars.

"Whose in the office?" I leveled.

"C..Connie, I think?"

I stepped up to the plate glass window. Crowded around a computer were Connie, Lula, and Stephanie. Vinnie unlocked the door and the three women jumped. Connie closed her laptop.

"Hey," yelled Vinnie, "I'm trying to run a business here, I don't pay ya to sit around and watch porn all day." The women smirked. "Why is the door locked?"

**Stephanie's Point of View**

I stood in the bonds office looking at Ranger. "You want him to _what_?" I shouted.

"Look Babe, I know what you're thinking, but Vinnie knows porn better than Derek Jeter knows baseball. If he could just look at it, maybe we could get a lead on something.

Ranger _didn't_ know what I was thinking; I had just come from church this morning. I was thinking "from the saints, to the sinners," and "will the church give me a dispensation for this?"

"Will this really help me?" please say no, please say no.

"I think it might, Babe." Fu—aart, Why'd he have to say that?

Now my penance was causing some problems, I had to say "thank you" and allow help. Maybe I could renegotiate. Around this time, I was wondering if it was possible to trade for door number two in the penance department. Praying the "Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary" was looking pretty good about now.. And all this acquiescing was making me nauseous.

Ranger turned to Vinnie who looked like a deer in the headlights, but an excited deer.

"Vinnie, I want you to flip through the stills first and see if anything looks familiar."

He looked at Ranger to see if he was holding a weapon, and then proceeded with caution. He looked through the still photos, careful not to linger on any one in particular. He kept checking to see if Ranger was wearing gloves and holding a piano wire.

"There's a few angles the way I see it," said Vinnie. "Someone had to buy or hire out the illustrations, there are a limited number of cartoonist who use that retro style in the industry. So that's an angle to pursue, also the hardware, those strap-ons are custom made. You don't see stitching like that on the store-bought shit from Taiwan." Connie and Ranger just glared at him.

"Oh my God, I don't believe I am hearing this." I stuck my fingers in my ears "la la la la la la la la."

Vinnie shrugged and gave an Italian, "Whaaat?"

Ranger cleared his throat, "as I was saying, _Vincent_, you are going to look at this video and give me your insight. And, so help me God, you'd better hope nothing "arises" when you're standing next to me."

Connie and Lula scoffed, knowing Ranger's demands on Vinnie would be next to impossible.

Vinnie looked like he was weighing his options, not sure he had the will power to keep it in check, "Alright," he conceded. Connie hit the play arrow and the video started to roll.

The video was shot in the same setting as the photo, some sort of urban warehouse or garage, a woman came into view dressed like a dominatrix bounty hunter, about my build. But she was wearing sunglasses and a full curly wig that hid most of her face. Let's just say the cameraman wasn't paying attention to anything above her neck.

Connie dug in her pocketbook and pulled out a bill, "ten bucks says the carpet don't match the drapes."

Vinnie reached for his wallet, "you're on, definitely a brunette."

"Full Brazilian," said Ranger.

Before the action started, the video cut away to an image of the billboard Vinnie had made awhile back to advertise Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. The camera zoomed in on the ten-foot-tall image of me with my boobs enhanced to double-d's wearing a sexy bounty hunter outfit.

"Hey that's our billboard," he said it like it was a good thing, "I bet we get some good foot traffic from this."

The four of us glared at him this time and he shrunk into his shoes.

As the scene continued to play, clothes started to come off and body parts started to come out. I didn't think I could turn a darker shade of red, until the woman dropped to her knees and started blowing the skip. There was a lot of moaning and groaning and she was telling him how big it was and how, if he was good, maybe later he'd be cruising down the Hershey highway.

The room got very quiet; there was no sound except for sucking and licking and moaning. Vinnie coughed, and Connie started tapping her nails. I was wondering if I had enough money in my account to fly to Iceland, I hear Reykjavik reaches fifty degrees by the end of May, and in July when we're melting into our car vinyl, Iceland will be a cool fifty-seven. Sure, I was on the "No Fly" list, but Dougie could get me a fake passport and Iceland had _no extradition_.

The bad girl bounty hunter finally got off her knees and started unzipping her leather hot pants. The cameraman got a close-up of her vajayjay. Connie and Vinnie grumbled and tossed their bills to Ranger.

The only person _not_ uncomfortable with the whole scene was Lula.

"Oh she's doing number 73 from the 'Sex By Numbers' book by Dr. Beverly, her technique is a little off, but he don't seem to mind."

I put my fingers in my ears again and squinted my eyes. I was waiting for Rod Serling's voice to start narrating, "next stop, the Twilight Zone."

Lula was on a roll. She was like Vin Scully giving a play-by-play account.

"Look at ol' boy, he's got game, that's the Karma Sutra," said Lula, "they call that one 'The Nirvana."

I lost myself for a moment and purred under my breath, "oh, yes it was," of course I was referring to Ranger and I think he heard me because he lost his balance a little and his body bumped into mine.

"I've been trying to get Tankie to do that but…"

"Whoa, T. M. I.!" shouted Vinnie.

Connie and I turned to her abruptly. Ranger did a loud cough-laugh-combo, and Lula looked back at us, offended.

Now the pace was picking up a little and the woman started the fake moaning I used to do when I was married to Dickie. The skip took a seat in one of the interrogation chairs and the woman straddled him and he held her breasts in his palms and started sucking her nipples.

Lula chimed in with a low whispering voice like she was narrating a PGA tournament, "they call that one the Amazon."

All of a sudden my cheeks were flushed and my skin felt prickly, my eyes slid over to Ranger whose eyes were slid over to mine. We both held the glance for a second, and then looked away. I knew what he was thinking. That night we were together, the Amazon, chair sex, Dr. Beverly number twenty-nine, whatever you want to call it; we had done it, twice, and it was goooood. Halfway through our night together I'd gone to my kitchen in search of water and fuel. When I closed the refrigerator door Ranger was sitting at my kitchen table, naked. I fed him grapes, wheat thins and peanut butter. He slid his chair out from under the table and patted his lap as an invitation. The seat was narrow and when I straddled him I could just touch the linoleum with the balls of my feet. His big hands were cupped under my bottom and his biceps contracted rhythmically with little effort as I strained my thighs and calves up and down. I remember how it hurt so good every time I came down on him and when he took my breasts into his mouth I came in a way I hadn't experienced before. The second time, we were in my bedroom in his thinking chair, but by that time, we were both so tired he just wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me into him, cheek to cheek, and I remember, I could see in the dim light, his eyes were closed as he rocked me gently up and down.

When I looked back at the computer screen, it just looked like sex; it hadn't been like that with us. I pulled myself together and focused on the screen. Finally, the skip got his wish and he was gonna give it to her from behind.

Vinnie must have forgotten he was not alone cause he chuckled and got a glossy smile on his face, "yeah, I know that move, I always ask for that one when I'm in my office with… wait a second." Then his face turned to stone and he grabbed the mouse. He zoomed in on the left butt cheek of the woman, who was about to get a hot beef injection in her back door, a little tattoo of a devil came into view, he touched the screen in disbelief, "Holy crapola, that's Joyce!"

Connie and Vinnie stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. Lula fast forwarded thru more videos and eventually found one that gave a better shot of the woman's face. I should have known. But now I had a million questions, and I wanted answers. I walked toward the door and Ranger followed.

"You O.K. Babe?"

"Yeah, you?"

He gave a nod.

I turned to Ranger, my mind was racing. "You know, what she did here probably isn't illegal, and if you question her about it she'll probably just send the link out to everyone for free. I know how she operates. She's obviously working with someone, and she's not going to tell you, she'll just lawyer up with her firm and drag it out. Without a lie detector, there's no way to know if she's telling the truth."

"Too bad we couldn't just give her a truth pill or something," said Lula.

Ranger got out his phone, "Get me Bobby."


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for the reviews. Trying to whip this man into shape here and get him pointed in the right direction. He is so busy, seems he has no time to be emotionally available for Stephanie. **

**I do not own these characters or make any money from them.**

**I turned to Ranger, my mind was racing. "You know, what she did here probably isn't illegal, and if you question her about it she'll probably just send the link out to everyone for free. I know how she operates. She's obviously working with someone, and she's not going to tell you, she'll just lawyer up with her firm and drag it out. Without a lie detector, there's no way to know if she's telling the truth."**

**"Too bad we couldn't just give her a truth pill or something," said Lula.**

**Ranger got out his phone, "Get me Bobby."**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

As soon as Ranger got on his phone I ran from the bonds office with a "Gotta go," and sprinted to his Tahoe. I didn't look back because I couldn't face another meeting with him. It was as if the inbox in my brain was being spammed with temptation by Satan himself. Images were recirculating, Ranger's lips on my cheek, Ranger walking to his car, Ranger when he was watching the website, Ranger when his eyes were on mine, "AAAAA!" I passed the Tasty Pastry and thought about stopping, but I needed the real stuff, the special combination of sugar, fat, and flour, that only my mother could make. I stepped on the gas and gunned it for Morelli's.

I found the key Joe had hidden in the dead flower pot on his back stoop. I slipped in and closed the door behind me. Joe didn't have a security system and he didn't really try to hide his spare key. It was assumed you'd have to be an idiot to break into a Homicide Detective's house; maybe I should examine that assumption more closely. Too late, I was already standing inside the door. I looked around. His house looked pretty much like it did the last time I had been here, only a little more clutter and more empty Pino's boxes in the trash. I headed to the kitchen to check the frig. The little beer frig in the garage had turned up empty so there were only two options left.

I opened the refrigerator door and spotted a lone piece of cheesecake left on a plate surrounded by lots of graham cracker crumbs. Now we're getting somewhere, I thought, but when I surveyed the rest of the refrigerator it turned up empty, none of my mom's containers, nothing. I checked the trash, nothing. I looked in his sink and cupboards, and again, nada. That left the basement frig.

I opened the basement door and flipped on the light. I walked down the stairs through the laundry room and into the back storage area. Joe had kept the refrigerator his Aunt had left him with the house, he kept it in the basement to use for beer kegs and poker nights. He also kept some bottles of vodka and unidentified liquors in there. I closed my eyes and opened the top freezer compartment, no luck. Only the frige door left, again I closed my eyes, opened the frig door, and voila! I felt like Charley Bucket right after he found that Golden Ticket. My heart leapt and I sang out "YES," sustaining it on a high note. There was the tiramisu, Black Forest fudge torte, butterscotch pudding, German Chocolate cake, Lemon bars, and Pineapple up-side-down cake. "Score!" I did a little fist pump.

I balanced the booty in my arms, walked up the stairs, flipped the light switch with my available pinky finger and shut the door with my behind. I was about to set the containers on the counter and get some grocery bags to help cart it away when I heard the toilet flush behind the door next to me. I kept the containers in my arms and started taking quick baby steps toward Joe's back door, but before I could get too far, the bathroom door flung open and I froze face to face with Angelina Collingsworth.

"YOU!" she yelled. Her eyes got wide and crazy and I thought the vein was going to explode in her sinewy neck. She took a step toward me and I backed toward the door but my foot caught on the area rug, I bobbled the goods and they fell to the floor.

"Oh Bitch, I have a score to settle with you," she yelled.

She lunged forward to grab me but slipped on the German Chocolate cake that had fallen from under the plastic wrap and onto the linoleum. Her arms managed to grab me and she slid down my body, clawing at me along the way. We both toppled to the floor. She was like the Tasmanian devil, scratching and clawing in every direction. We both attempted to stand a few times in the milieu but the butterscotch pudding had oozed into a big puddle, coated the floor and every time one of us got erect, one step and we would go back down, smashing more dessert along the way. Angelina managed to steady herself and pulled out her phone, she held the phone to her ear keeping her eyes locked on mine. She had an evil smile on her face and when the dispatch picked up she broke into a sob, as though on cue. She sniffed into the phone, "Help me, please… I'm being attacked… I'm at my boyfriends house… Joe Morelli, yes he's a detective." Her voice was shaky and panicked, but her face was calm, disturbingly pleasant, and when she hung up the phone, she continued in her assault.

I was willing my body to just get me close enough to the counter or the table so I could stand and get the heck out of there, but the sugary oil slick on the floor seemed to work like a glue that held me to the spot restricting my body to slow-motion, like in those Friday the Thirteenth movies, where Freddie's coming but your legs won't move fast enough.

We had been at it for a while; she was trying to kill me and I, to my credit, was just trying to get away. Eventually both of us lost steam and I heard the sound of a siren. I smoothed my skirt down to cover my underwear, rolled on my back, and just waited.

My mind was effectively numb, the adrenaline from the attack had worn off and I sat in the holding cell staring into space. Carl had called Joe several times but he refused to talk to me and he said it was up to Angelina if she wanted to drop the charges, which, of course, she did not. On the bench next to me, Beulah Wortman looked like she had finished sleeping off a hangover. I knew Beulah well, I had put Beulah in here too many times to count, for everything from check fraud to domestic assault. She was a big woman, a big, tall Jamaican Amazonian and her eyes fluttered and she stirred when she heard my sniffle. I hoped I could turn my back to her and she would fall back asleep. I tiptoed over to the stainless steel wall plate that acted as a mirror. My face was smudged with chocolate except for two white lines where tears had streamed down my cheeks. They had not been tears of sadness, but tears of anger and self-pity.

I guess I had good reason to be angry, not over Joe mind you, over the general state of my life. I had lost my vacation, Grandma was in the hospital, the world was about to learn of my own personal porn site, my mother had given away all my desserts, and I had been coerced into going to Church, and now I was about to get my face pounded my a drunk, angry six-foot black woman. I could feel her breathing on the back of my neck and I could smell rum on her breath. She put one of her big paws on my shoulder and turned me to face her. I was too tired to fight and I just closed my eyes and hoped it would be over quickly. When nothing happened I opened my left eye a little. She was fishing into her pocket; she brought out a wad of McDonald's napkins and started wiping my face.

**Ranger's Point of View**

I left the bonds office at one o'clock and headed back to Rangeman. This website was more than an annoyance, Joyce Barnhardt had to be dealt with. I had to know what she knew and how she knew it, and I needed the info ASAP. I called Hector with specific instructions, then I called Tank.

"Yup," he answered.

"I want everyone in the conference room in 20 minutes." I said.

"Anything else I should know boss?" Tank asked.

"Do you remember when we were in Honduras, and that thing we had to do when that operative double-crossed us?" I asked.

"Yes," said Tank.

"We have a similar situation."

I pulled in and headed straight for the conference room. Bobby, Tank, Hector and Cal were there, along with a few others. Hal could have come in handy but he had purchased his own ticket and joined Leta Sanchez on the Caribbean Cruise. He was there to meet her family, but also to insure Herbie Batista hadn't escaped Puerto Barrios and made his way home from the edges of Hell. The team was told to keep this information to themselves for Hal's safety and I didn't think Stephanie needed to be reminded of her misfortune.

"Where's Lester?" I asked.

"He say's he's sick so he's hanging out on four," said Tank.

"Call the desk and get his ass up here."

I turned and addressed my team.

"Saturday we learned of a website that is using unauthorized photos to sell access to pornographic streaming videos."

"You just now learning about the web porn boss?" Hector laughed.

"You been in the wind too long," came a yell from the back.

"Were you alone late at night when you discovered it?" asked Bobby.

Everybody's a comedian, "yeah, yeah, very funny."

"The images being used are of Stephanie Plum."

The room fell silent and a few people cleared their throats. I continued to explain that Joyce Barnhardt was involved, but we needed to extract information from her to get to her accomplice.

Tank took the floor.

"Hector has been working on this and it seems Joyce has been receiving money from an offshore account. The account is in the Caymans, so you know what that means. We would need to call in some favors to get info on it, which we are prepared to do if needed. But we may not have to, because it seems Joyce is also very active on an internet website called WallBangers dot com. – it's a, well, it's a, a," Tank looked a little red-faced and Bobby shouted out, "it's a site for people who wanna get their freak on!"

"Ya know, do their 'tour of booty,'" said Cal.

"Friends with benefits," added someone else, "for fuck buddies."

I was losing patience, I cleared my throat and took over, "after looking at her computer, it seems she's been trolling for men on this website and it just happens that she's meeting one of her mystery dates tomorrow night at Shorty's. What she doesn't know is her mystery date was created by Hector, goes by the screen name of Boo T. Call and claims in his profile he's ten inches of 'Lewd and Luscious Latin Love. So our guy has to buy her a drink, get her comfortable, then get her to take him to her place, or a motel. Then we give her the injection and get the info." I looked around the room, "any volunteers?" No hands went up.

"O.K. then, we'll take a vote."

Just then Lester decided to join us, he walked in just before the guys looked around, they all said in unison, "Santos."

Bobby took the floor to go over the finer points of using sodium pentothal in interrogations; My phone buzzed and I saw it was Carl, he rarely called me from his cell so I decided to take it. It was Stephanie, and I could tell she was in trouble.

I headed to the Trenton Police Station. On my way there I called the office at Blessed Sacrament to let them know Ella would be picking up the girls. I thought about having Santos do it, but I envisioned the panic when Mary Alice told her teacher the strange man she was going home with was Moe Lester. Hum, maybe on Friday.

I had Tank drop me at Morelli's to pick up the Tahoe, I didn't think it would be a good idea to take Steph over there to get it. Officer Olmney was still inside, no Morelli, so I went in to get a look at the crime scene. The kitchen floor was completely covered with chocolate sludge and the table and chairs had been knocked over and slid around the floor. Angelina Collingsworth was sitting there smoking a cigarette. She'd told the arresting officer that Stephanie had thrown the desserts on the floor and attacked her, there wasn't a scratch on her. I left through the backdoor and the woman followed me outside and tried to slip me her phone number.

I couldn't believe that prick, Morelli. He had been at the station but he wouldn't help her out. I wasn't fooled, this was all about Stephanie's porn site, I knew he had seen it, he got angry, and now he was taking out that anger on her, what a coward.

**Stephanie's Point of View**

Three-thirty had been quickly approaching and I hadn't heard back from anyone at the bonds office so I broke down and called the only other number I could think of. Carl had come back to the holding cell to give me an update. "I thought you should know, I got a call from Connie, she and Vinnie are tied up at the Court House so you might want to call someone else, but make it quick." He handed me his personal cell phone.

"Yo."

All I could say was one word, "Ranger."

His voice was steady, but urgent.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

I tried to speak but I was afraid of what would come out.

"Stephanie, where are you?"

Again, no answer, I could hear him talking to someone in the background.

"The Tahoe is at," his voice trailed off, he now knew it was at Morelli's.

"Your on Carl's phone at the cop shop, is this about a skip?"

No, but as soon as I get bonded out it will be; Boston to Reykjavik, four-hundred-forty-seven dollars, one way.

I was feeling very crappy about everything, but then I heard Father Francisco's voice in my head, 'ask for help when you need it.'

"I was just wondering, the girls get out at three-thirty and I'm currently tied up, well, locked up really. And I'm afraid I won't be out in time, and they'll be sitting there alone."

Before I could finish Ranger said, "I'll be right there."

It was well after three-thirty when the bailiff called my name. I walked stock straight down the hall and requested my personal effects from the clerk. Ranger stood there waiting for me. He must have picked up the Tahoe, because he handed me my shoulder bag. He didn't look happy but he didn't look mad either. He just looked at the clerk, waiting.

My face was somewhat cleaned off but the rest of me was a mess. I had thrown away the turquoise sweater and just wore the tank top which was smudged with chocolate. My hair had absorbed most of the lemon bar goo, and it was now acting as a hair gel, plastering my curls into a lopsided fashion. The multi-colored skirt could possibly be saved, but right now you could make out the distinctive pattern of pineapple rings on my behind.

My keys and Tupperware (which I insisted Carl remove from Joe's place), arrived, and just then Joe came around the corner. He acted like he didn't see me but he knew full well I was there. He was carrying a fork and a little paper plate and he was eating a piece of carrot cake. In an instant my right hand shot into my open shoulder bag and Ranger's left hand shot in after mine. He held my hand in some sort of Vulcan death grip and my gun fell from my fingers to the bottom of my bag. The desk clerk froze with a contorted look on his face and Joe just smirked at me and walked away. Ranger squeezed my hand gently, "Stephanie, there are other ways."

"Well, right now I can't seem to think of any."

"Babe, I can think of three reasons you'd have to shoot him, and eating your dessert isn't one of them."

He continued to hold my hand until we were out of the Police station and into the Tahoe.

I didn't say anything on the ride to Val's. I was wondering if I had crossed the mortal sin threshold at Joe's by breaking and entering and attempted theft. Well, technically, the dessert was mine. Why had my mother put me in this situation, better yet, why had I allowed her to do it? Food, one of my "big three" stumbling blocks causing problems again.

Ranger pulled in back of Val's house and cut the engine. He got out, came around and opened my door. He walked me to the back door and deactivated the alarm. Once inside he scanned the room then turned to me.

"Why don't you take the rest of the evening off?"

"Because I have to get the girls."

"They're handled. Ella's got them at Rangeman. I told Santos he has to stand in for defense training with Mary Alice. The guys would be very disappointed if they missed that. I'll have them home by eight-thirty, we'll bring you some dinner."

My mouth opened like a codfish, but what could I say? Again my penance was causing some problems, before, I could just tell him I didn't want him wasting precious time and man power on me. There was that indebted feeling again, and although I hadn't had sex with him in a long time, he still did these things for me.

Ranger found my hand dangling from my limp arm and held it between his big hands. He leaned over and kissed the ridge of my jaw on a little spot Beulah had missed. "Umm, German chocolate." He pulled out a kitchen chair and pressed me down to sit. Ranger took one last look at the security keypad, he seemed satisfied with the system, "Get some rest," he said, then he left.

**Ranger's Point of View**

I pulled into the garage and headed to my office. I brought up the monitors and scanned the building. Ella had cleared the gym so the girls had free reign of the equipment. Hector had some activities set up and was speaking to Angela, part Spanish, part English and she was translating for her sister, 'good' I thought.

"O.K. little chicas, this is called King of the Mountain. If you want to win, you have to knock the king off his throne and steal his crown." Both hands shot up, "I wanna be king , I wanna be king." In a moment Santos came through the door, wearing a blue baseball cap.

Hector looked at the girls and smiled, "You have to win first, but right now we have to take down King Lester."

The girls stood on the sidelines watching Hector circled the pile of mats. He instructed the girls on how to work together to attack the king. I watched the monitor as Hector approached Lester several times and was able to snatch the hat form the taller man's head. I was probably underutilizing him in the field. He wasn't Army trained, but with his stealth, and quickness, you'd never see him coming. After a lot of help from Hector, the girls were able to sneak up on Lester, and Angela took the crown. Lester could have done better, but he was using his hands to shield himself from Mary Alice.

Now it was Angela's turn to be king; Hector showed her some defensive moves. She stood with her arms crossed on the pile of mats. And Lester and Mary Alice came at her from the side. Hector showed Angela a little sweep move to use when an opponent attacks upright. In a moment Angela swept his foot out and Lester allowed himself to fall, defeated. Next Mary Alice tried to take the crown, she just grabbed Angela's leg and held on, and the older sister was dragging her around and finally started tickling Mary Alice so she would let go; they both laughed and fell down. As Angela was laughing, Mary Alice snatched the hat and declared victory.

A while later, he girls went to Ella's apartment to make dinner and watch a movie. Around eight o'clock I heard a little knock on my office door.

"Enter." A short head of curls bobbed in first.

"Mary Alice reporting for duty Sarge,"

"Reporting for duty? Well, private, did you bring dinner for your Aunt Stephanie?"

"Yes sir, and brownies." She pointed to Angela who held up a basket she was carrying with both hands.

"Ella said there's enough in there for you, too," said Angela.

I turned to Angela, "what movie did you watch?"

"We were going to watch Pride and Prejudice but Mary Alice saw a National Geographic documentary about the special forces so we checked it out."

Mary Alice piped up, "Yeah, did you know they named a special group in the Army after you?"

I nodded at Mary Alice, this kid kills me,

"What did you think of the movie?" I asked.

Mary Alice cut in, "Pretty interesting, but man one guy in there is mad all the time cause he's yelling at everybody," she gave a big eye roll.

"That's the drill sergeant, he's very important, without him nothing gets done."

Angela spoke again, "Ella told us how you and your friends made it through the training, and most of the people don't even finish the obstacle course. That must have been hard to do, how did you pass?"

That question had a big answer, and I couldn't tell all of it.

"I got help," and this was the truth, "I trained with my friends, we helped each other, and we all agreed to never leave one of us behind."

"That sounds like one of their mottos, fort, fortis…"

"Fortes sumus, it means stronger together." I said.

"That's it, anyway, we didn't finish watching the video, do you think we could come back sometime and finish, and maybe play King of the Mountain with Hector?

"Yeah, Yeah," said Mary Alice, then they both begged, "pleeeeeze?"

"Besides, we need to finish our training so you can take us on a mission," added Mary Alice.

This could actually work, I thought. "Alright, deal," I said.

"I have a big mission coming up this Friday, and I need some help."

"Deal," they both said. I stuck out my hand, and Mary Alice looked disappointed, "shouldn't we get tattoos, seal it in blood or something."

I turned on my headlights and pulled out of the parking garage. Angela had paired her I-pod to my car stereo and before I could protest, Brown Eyed Girl was playing and both girls were yelling "Sha, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La La, te dah," followed by a Mary Alice solo, "secret Asian man, secret Asian man, they've given you and number, and taken way your name…"

"Hector downloaded some music for us, and he said even you would like it cause it's from your 'era.'"

"Hey, let's play 'name that tune,' see if you can guess the songs," said Angie. She was in an unnaturally good mood, so I decided to go with it.

She hit the arrow and a surf-rock guitar started to twang, "James Bond Theme." I said quickly.

"Good, but an easy get." Said Angela, "try this." Na Na, Na Na, Na Na, Na Na –

"Batman theme," way too easy.

"Alright, how bout this one," a blues guitar wailed against a snare and cymbals. I recognized Van Morrison's voice. "Baby please don't go."

"Too easy, the title is the first line." Said Angela.

"Well, then you'd better bring you're A-game, cause I'm on a roll."

Another song began, I knew it was the Beatles, a few horns blared, oh, I know this one, "I was alone, I took a ride…" "Got to Get You Into My Life! I shouted."

Angela and Mary Alice moaned. "Come oooon Angie," said her sister.

"O.K., here's an old one," said Angela, as it started to play. It was slow, not The Temptations, but close, I knew it, then a man's voice started, "Oh girl, I'd be in trouble if you left me now, I don't know where to look for love, I just don't know how."

"Trouble if you left me now." I said.

"Wrong," Said Mary Alice.

I don't know where to look for love?"

"Nope," Said Angela.

'Hfff," I let out a breath, "Oh Girl, it's Oh Girl!"

"Ding, ding, ding, ding!" the girls clapped, and Angela yawned.

I'd taken a little detour and driven by a few of our client's homes. The girls were quiet and I noticed Mary Alice's head was nodding. I turned toward Val's house. At the next stoplight I checked the rear view mirror and both girls were leaning on each other, asleep. I turned the music down a little and turned back to the last song:

Oh, girl, how I depend on you

To give me love when I need it

Right on time you will always be

All my friends call me a fool

They say, let the woman take care of you

So I try to be hip and think like the crowd

But even the crowd can't help me now

Oh girl, tell me what am I gonna do

I know I've got a guilty face

Girl, I feel so out of place, oh yeah, yeah

Don't know where to go, who to see, yeah

I pulled in behind Val's house and when I turned off the car Angela opened her eyes. I picked up Mary Alice with one hand and a basket from Ella with the other. Angela carried the brownies and we walked quietly to the house. I hit the code on the alarm and let us in. The house was dark. I put the food in the frig and we headed upstairs. Angela said goodnight and I took off Mary Alice's shoes and put her in her bed.

I slipped into the room at the end of the hallway. It was a little before nine and she was fast asleep. I could tell she had taken a shower but she still looked exhausted from her busy day. I stripped down to my boxers and tee shirt and slid in behind her. I got as close as I physically could. I smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed my lips to her cheek, "I love you, Babe," then I slept until the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own these characters or make money from them.**

**I've worked non-stop on these next few chapter, in fact I think I've lost five pounds because I don't want to stop and eat, must be love! Trying not to sacrifice quality for quantity, counting on you to keep me honest, and Donna the Anonymous - I love your reviews.**

I was lost in a dream, a good dream, a dream I've had many times before, about that one night Ranger and I did the Nirvana and the Amazon, and I'm not talking about dance moves. It was so real I could feel Ranger's arm wrapped around me possessively cupping my breast, his other arm was bent at the elbow, and I was using it for a pillow. His chin rested on my head and I wiggled my behind into him and he felt so good, all primed, in working order. I turned in my dream and nuzzled my nose into his neck and started to suck on his tender skin. It got to the point where I couldn't tell if I was close to being awake, or just dreaming about being close to being awake. A familiar smell brought me one step closer to consciousness and when I blinked opened my eyes, I realized my pillow was in my mouth.

I smelled coffee and heard Angie cooking breakfast downstairs. I got out of bed feeling quite rested. I woke Mary Alice and used the bathroom. Time was a little short so I dug in my bag and pulled on a baby blue polo shirt and tan crop pants with a woven belt. My hair was unruly from falling asleep with it still damp so I pulled it into a ponytail. I found the espadrilles in my bag and called it good. When I came down the stairs, I saw that Angie was ready for school, sitting at the kitchen table reading a book and Ranger was in the kitchen making breakfast. I eyed him suspiciously; He had an ever-so-slight five o'clock shadow and I think he had been wearing that shirt yesterday. Of course, how would I know, he wore that shirt every day?

Ranger's eyes were locked on mine and he wasn't hiding a smile on his mouth.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty." And I wondered if I had been dreaming or if he _had_ been my Prince Charming last night attempting to awaken me with a kiss.

I looked at him and I started to ask the question "Did you,"

"_Just get here_," he interrupted firmly, sliding his eyes from me to Angie and back to me again.

"Of course," I said, "and how was your night?" doing God knows what to me while I was asleep, while I was probably breathing open-mouthed, drooling on my pillow.

The smile widened a little and he pulled a chair out from under the table, waving his hand over it in a very prince-like fashion.

"I have never slept better," he gave me a devilish look and amended his statement, "well, not recently, anyway."

He set a cup of coffee down in front of me, made the way I liked it, followed by some toast with a little jelly and some scrambled eggs. He put another plate on the table as Mary Alice was making her way down the stairs.

Ranger leaned his magnificent back side against the kitchen counter; legs crossed at the ankles, and drank his coffee. He had a kitchen towel thrown over his left shoulder; he put two more slices of bread in the toaster and flipped the eggs between fielding requests for juice and more toast.

I glanced through the newspaper as the girls told me all about their night at Rangeman, playing games in the gym, and watching the movie about the special forces.

"And Ranger said we could come to Rangeman for two hours after school every day to train for our mission," said Mary Alice. Angie smiled and shook her head up and down.

"If," he interrupted, "it's all right with your aunt." He turned to me,

Maybe I could use that time to make up for my nonexistent paycheck this week, I thought, "alright."

I looked at Ranger, "exercise, granola, _and_ a documentary – You're trying to turn them to the dark side."

Ranger smiled and shook his head, "speaking of the dark side," he looked at his watch, "you'd better go, or Sister Camilla's gonna write your name on her list, wouldn't want to end up in the Principal's office on your second day of school"

The girls grabbed their backpacks, I grabbed my purse and we all walked out together. We helped the girls into the SUV, then Ranger took my hand and pulled me to the rear of the vehicle.

"Ranger, I'm gonna be late." I protested.

"I know, but I have a deadline." Whenever he said things like that, it made me nervous.

"Sounds serious."

"My attorney got a call from the FAA. You won your appeal and your name has been removed from the Terrorist Screening Center's 'No Fly list.'"

"I _appealed_?" I really _was_ surprised by this.

"You just have to sign a few documents then you can get your Passport back."

"When did I _appeal_?"

"The agent will be in Trenton at my attorney's office Friday morning, 7:30; should I tell him you'll be there?"

"Can I do it after I drop off the girls, Val's not home till Saturday." I pointed toward the Tahoe.

"He's here twenty-four hours, and it's the only time he's available. I'll get the girls to school, just take care of this." He was acting all domesticated again, and a little bossy, and why did this bother me so much?

"O.K.," I said.

"Good, now about your _other_ problem." He looked at me with a slight raise of eyebrows.

There were so many, how could I know which one he was talking about.

"What _other_ problem?"

"Babe, you nearly violated me in my sleep last night. Your hormones are raging like the New Jersey turnpike on a Friday at five. At this point, you're a hazard to yourself _and_ others. We have to fix this. I've decided to take matters into my own hands. What are you doing after the girls go to bed, say nine o'clock?"

Oh my God, I think my panties were getting wet, but not the good kind of 'wet.'

"Huh?" Was he still talking, I lost him at 'take matters into my own hands."

"Babe?"

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Just be home and have the girls put to bed by nine." With that, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed his lips into mine, slipping me just enough tongue to caused my girlie business to tingle. He turned and started walking to his car and called back, "And don't forget, we're having dinner together Friday night." I started to argue, but then I looked at my watch. If I sprouted wings right now, I might be in my seat before the opening hymn was finished. I jumped in the Tahoe and sped away.

I pulled into the visitor's lot of Blessed Sacrament and took the last spot. We ran to the door of the church, I paused to collect myself, then pushed open the doors and quickly walked down the aisle. We'd missed the Kyrie and the Gloria, and everyone was standing for the opening prayer. The girls found their seats and I found Sister Camilla. She had turned around and was staring at me. She turned back and made a mark on her clipboard.

Physically, there was no reason for me to be afraid of Sister Camilla Rosario. I was a good four inches taller than her, and she looked as if she ate only enough, as my Mother would say, to "keep body and soul together," but there was something about her eyes, one eye, really. Her right eye and eyebrow were always in a permanent scowl, which, over the years must have created the rather deep furrow on that side of her brow and when she looked at you, it seemed to hold you in place while her left eye scanned everywhere else. She looked a little like an older and tanner version of Billie Jean King, sensible wire rimmed glasses with short cropped hair, once black, now an even mix of salt and pepper. She didn't wear the traditional penguin suit, instead a black sweater over a white shirt and a black skirt with support hose and top-of-the-line running shoes.

I made it through the service without drawing attention to myself again, and Father McMahon did the host breaking and the genuflecting again, and the kids did the crazy hand shaking again, still too afraid to touch the old lady on the end, and when I turned this time to greet the person behind me the seat was empty. Again I walked my group across the parking lot, and this time Angie was walking with Jessica Juniac and there were no bullies blocking the entrance to the school.

I made my way to Ranger's Tahoe and headed for Rangeman. I wasn't bringing in any skips this week and a Tahoe gets twelve miles to the gallon. Tank turned to greet me from the copy machine. Morning Plum, meeting in the conference room in fifteen. Boss says he wants you there. It's about your porn site.

"It's not _my_ porn site," I asserted.

Tank gave me a dead stare, "a website featuring unauthorized images of you in compromising sexual situations."

"Alright," I said, "just call it _the_ porn site."

Bobby, Lester, and Hector were already in the conference room. I noticed the marker board was filled with little cartoon drawings of all the Merry men jumping out of Wonder Woman's invisible jet. You could easily pick out Tank, he was the largest of the paratroopers, but Ranger had the biggest muscles. Hector was very slim with short hair and Lester was tall, wearing a blue hat with a bill. Ranger came in at the last second and readied a power point; he walked up to the board and erased the screen, leaving Wonder Woman till the very end. We were all assembled in the conference room. Tank called the meeting to order. We're here to discuss Steph's, I mean, _the_ Porn site.

The meet-n-greet is tonight, 10:00 at Shorty's

The target is Joyce Barnhardt; an image of Joyce appeared on the screen, it was her promotional photo from Scudder and Surrey Law Firm. Joyce's height and weight appeared next to her photo.

"One-hundred-twenty-three, yeah right," I barked. She couldn't possibly weigh seven pounds less than me.

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"No, we accessed her medical records," said Bobby, in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Shi-eeze," I said nervously, "I, um, didn't know you could to that?"

Ranger's back was to me but I saw his mouth twitch.

Bobby added, "we also have to make sure she won't have any conditions leading to an allergic reaction causing respiratory failure."

"Oh." I nodded in a small voice.

I frowned at her photo. I wanted to ask how many times she had been prescribe doxycycline, and if her rabies shots were up to date, but kept my trap shut. She had that big, red, Italian bouffant, red lipstick, and a black suit jacket with a maroon silk shirt. In another life, I could see myself thinking she wasn't all _that_ bad, but in my real life, she was a combination of Nelly Olson, Paula Jones, and Anna Nicole Smith, a train wreck of mean and slutty bordering on the bizarre.

Tank spoke again, "Santos will meet the target and get invited to her house, although we have a hotel room ready if needed. She has to be in a secured location before he can give her the drug. Bobby and I will monitor the back, Ranger and Hector, the front."

At this point Bobby took over, talking directly to Lester.

"I know you guys are familiar with sodium pentothal, but I'm going over this again because it is a serious barbiturate, not to be taken lightly. The drug has to be injected intravenously with the dose based on the person's weight, too little and she doesn't talk enough, too much and she could pass out, slip into a coma, or even die. It would be better to get a few drinks into her first to get her a little relaxed. Of course, she will feel the injection when it happens, but when she wakes up, she won't remember receiving it, or even the moments leading up to it."

Wow, that stuff could really come in handy. All eyes looked at me, "Crud, I must have.."

"Said that out loud," they all finished.

Bobby continued, "remember, this isn't like the movies where a person is drugged and they spill their guts, or you ask questions and the truth just comes tumbling out. By nature, the drug makes a person more talkative and the thought process needed to tell lies is sort of shut down. It actually works better if the target thinks they are talking to a trusted confidant, and not think they are being interrogated."

This was sounding less like a bar distraction, and more like James Bond, and as I looked around I wondered just how routine this type of operation was to these guys.

Bobby continued, "Santos will have a syringe with him, and we will have more available in case the dose is to lean. The hotel room is secured; we were in her house last night to check for security cameras, hidden surveillance, the usual. We now know the porn videos were shot in her basement. She's been meeting men on line, takes them back to her house, and makes the videos there. The men either don't know, or don't care that they are being filmed, it's not certain if they know the films are ending up on line, we're guessing not."

There was a knock on the door; Tank opened it and stepped into the hallway. In a moment, he stuck his head back into the room, "Um, Stephanie, can you come out here for a sec.?"

I stepped from the room and Cal handed me a note. "You got a message from school, says it's important, says to go to the office."

I went to my desk and grabbed my bag and headed to the garage.

I walked into the school, looked toward the Principal's office and my chest got tight. It smelled like floor polish and ink toner. I walked half way down the hall to the room with the window and walked in. The secretary who sat behind the front desk was not a nun, but a civilian. She told me the principal was expecting me, and to go to the second door down the hall. When I passed the first door I stopped, through the skinny, vertical narrow window I saw Angie. She was sitting at a desk with her head down writing something. I could see her face was blotchy like she had been crying. I marched down the hall and knocked loudly on the next door.

"Enter."

I walked into the office and Sister Camilla motioned for me to sit.

"Miss Plum," came the stern voice, "I understand you are in charge of the girls while their parents are away. Today in Gym Angela got elbowed in the eye from another girl."

"Is she alright?" I started to get up. Sister Camilla motioned me to sit.

"She's fine. However, the other girl had a bloody nose. Apparently, after the elbow, Angela kicked a leg out from under her and shoved her down to the gym floor."

I tried to tamp down my smile, with little result.

"Did the other girl happen to be Josie Barnhardt?" please say yes, please say yes.

"I can't give you that information."

"She's been tormenting Angie for awhile. That was no freaking accident." I regulated my voice, "I mean, I just doubt it was an accident."

Sister Camilla paused to assess me, "that may be, but the teacher only saw Angela's actions, and Angela did not say the girl hit her. If she refuses to report an assault, there's nothing I can do about it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was forth grade all over again, it was Joyce, and the teasing, and the bullying. I felt my face getting hot. Tears welled in my eyes. Crud, not now.

Sister Camilla softened a bit, "Ms. Plum, there's not a lot that goes on in this building that I don't know about, and I am aware of the activities of certain fifth-grade girls, however, I would not be serving Angela if I jumped in, especially when she is denying there is a problem." I didn't like where this was going.

"Angela Kloughn has to take responsibility for her own actions; these trials and tribulations will build her character.

"But she," I started.

Sister Camilla cut in, "perhaps, Ms. Plum, we should talk about how _you_ are contributing to this situation."

My back stiffened. I must have heard her wrong, me? What did I do? Just like fourth grade, somehow _I'm_ always the problem,

"_What_?" I asked.

"Ms. Plum, my sources tell me your work brings you in contact with some very shady people." Oh my God, she has been talking to my mother.

"It's not like I take my nieces to work with me, I only handle one job at a time and I'm not scheduled with anyone this week," I said.

Sister Camilla's brow looked like the San Andreas fault, and her eye was piercing me through.

"But certainly, the girls are smart and they must suspect something."

"They really don't know _what_ I do," I countered. I opened my mouth to speak again, she held up her hand, "not to mention what work like that does to a person's soul."

Now she'd crossed the line and _my_ brow was furrowing and I was pretty sure I had the upper hand here.

"If it helps, Sister, I talked to a priest on Sunday and he said what I was doing was a necessary service, to 'rescue the needy' so to speak, and I needed encouragement."

Sister Camilla rose from her chair and steadied herself on her desk, her brow was trembling; her eye was like a laser beam sawing me in half.

First my mother, now her; I was tired of defending my bounty hunting.

"And as for my mother, since I quit taking my Grandmother along, I don't see how it's any of her business."

Sister Camilla gasped; she looked a little pale.

"You take your Grandmother to work, when you shoot porn videos!"

"No, no, that's not what I do, It's not my job, I…"

At that moment there was a loud ruckus outside of her office and Sister Camilla stepped out to take a look. Mary Alice was running toward us with the civilian on her heels. "Sorry Sister, I tried to stop her," the woman said.

"Please, please," shouted Mary Alice, "I know my sister's in lock-down, but I gotta get this message to her!" She held up a piece of paper. Sister Camilla caught her by her jumper straps and took the paper. It was a drawing, and it looked like Angie, with blonde hair wearing a blue hat standing on a mountain. At the bottom, she had written: "FORTY ZOOMUS – NO GIRL LEFT BEHIND!"

Sister Camilla nodded to Mary Alice then turned to me; "Angela will remain in detention until the end of the day,"

I tried to speak, "but I.."

"And barring no future problems," she continued, "she may return to class tomorrow, but I'm watching you Plum." Then she did that little gesture pointing two fingers at her eyes, then towards mine. And with that she took the paper and took Mary Alice by the hand and they disappeared into the detention room. I hung my head and slunk back to the Tahoe. I knew I should try to amend the situation, but for now I'd let it ride.

The visit to Sister Camilla had put me behind schedule. It was lunchtime and I was feeling a little wilted so I drove to the deli by the bonds office and got an Italian sub with provolone and extra pickles. I jumped in the Tahoe again and looked at my list of stops, watering plants and hauling in mail and newspapers. My last stop on the list was Betty Anne DeBlasio's house. This was a one-shot, but nothing I was looking forward to. I fished her key from under the rock at the bottom of her birdbath and gained entry. Betty Anne was more a friend of Mary Lou's. They lived a block away from each other and they both had a swarm of boys.

I walked into the house and tripped over a baseball glove and kicked some soccer gear out of my way. I had one job, and one job only here. Feed Diablo. Diablo was her son Damien's pet python. As snakes go, he wasn't too big, about 6 feet long and he was black with brown spots that looked like eyes, and he slunk around slowly. I found Damien's room and pushed open the door. Inside, it smelled a little funky, like after you forget that extra bean burrito in your car overnight. I wasn't sure if that was the snake, or the green stuff growing in a bowl the kid had left under his bed. I waded through Legos and Matchbox cars, over to the large glass terrarium. I set the little cardboard box from the pet store on the kid's dresser and opened a little door in the wire screen that lay over the top of the terrarium.

"Take out the mouse, drop him in the tank and walk away, Stephanie." I told myself. I held the small cardboard carrier over the access door and attempted to dump the mouse in the tank but nothing fell out. I reached my hand inside and found the little guy. His heart was beating a mile a minute. I carefully pulled him from the box and held my palms above the opening. All I had to do was drop the little guy, close the hatch, then take my keys and get the heck out of there. But the subconscious has a way of righting life's little wrongs, and when I went to drop the mouse with my right hand, my left hand opened and I dropped my keys instead. I stood there shocked. I put the little guy back in the box, pinched the bridge of my nose and went in search of a wire hanger.

Damien DeBlasio had a dresser full of clothes and a closet full of crap, but no hanger. Finally, I found an empty wire hanger in Betty Anne's room and started to untwist it as I made my way back to the serpent. The wire was bent and ready to go when I reached the terrarium and looked down, but no keys. I gasped in horror when I saw Diablo. He was slithering away from the crime scene with a telltale lump in his throat, just past his jaws. Those were Ranger's keys. I actually started to reach my hand in, but came to my senses. I pinched the bridge of my nose for the second time and took out my phone.

"Um, I don't even know how to say this."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did the Tahoe go to the big parking garage in the sky?"

"No, but it _is_ temporarily out of order."

"Because?" he asked. Crud, just say it and get it over with.

"Because I was feeding a python and he ate your car keys." Whew.

There was silence on the other end. Then what sounded like sniffles, just sniffles and some labored breathing coming from the otherwise dead phone line.

"Ranger?"

He was barely audible when he whispered, "I, heh, I'll, be, right, there."

Ranger arrived and took a long look at Diablo and the odd shaped lump protruding from his midsection.

"Yep, you were right, but I just had to see it for myself."

"Should have been here earlier, he wrapped himself around that branch in there and the automatic door locks were going haywire." Ranger just chuckled.

"You ready, or is there a pet alligator in the bathtub we need to take care of?" He pulled a new set of keys from his pocket.

"No, but," I paused and looked at the little cardboard box. Ranger picked up the box, looked through the little air holes and saw my dilemma.

"Tell you what," he said, "he looks a little small. Let's take this guy back to the pet store. Hector will come by later to take care of El Diablo; he used to have a pet snake."

Twenty minutes later we were leaving the pet store. I carried the little cardboard box, and Ranger carried a new mouse cage, bedding and a box of Mouse Nibbles. I was jumping all around, excited about the idea of a new pet. Ranger just walked steadily to the Tahoe looking amused.

"The girls are gonna love him, I hope Val doesn't mind. I'm sure Rex will be fired up to have a friend across the counter. Now we just need a good name. Hmm, any ideas?"

"Mickey?"

"Taken."

"Mighty?"

"Nope."

"Jerry?"

"Again, taken."

"Stewart?"

"HMMM."

"Despereaux?"

"Very funny."

"Where to, Babe?"

"I have to check on Grandma then pick up the girls, so, do you want me to drop you at Rangeman, or the Bat Cave?

"No, I'm good."

Ranger pulled up outside of Life Moments Rehabilitation Hospital and killed the engine. I was a little surprised when he got out of the vehicle and started walking in with me.

"You _do_ know where I'm going?" I said.

"To see your Grandma?"

"Just checking."

The building was practically new, just outside of the Berg in Hamilton Township. It resembled a large swanky hotel and when we walked through the lobby I couldn't stop my head from swiveling all around. The interior was decorated in earthy coffee house colors and had a waterfall cascading down a three-story wall at one end of a long rectangular wading pool. Past the lobby, to the right, the first floor opened up into a huge gym with an indoor walking track, workout machines, and free weights. Past that and thru some double doors was a rehabilitation gym staffed with an army of physical therapists. To the left of the grand lobby were a restaurant, coffee bar, gift shop and full day-spa. Take an elevator down one floor and you would reach the locker rooms, one lap pool and a warm water pool for water aerobics.

Grandma was sitting in a wheelchair waiting for us in the lobby. "Hey, how's my famous grand-daughter?"

"Hi Grandma, I'm good, but hardly famous."

"Not true, I was in the internet café this morning doing some research for occupations I might be interested in trying now that my hip is doing so much better. I saw your pictures on the World Wide Web. I didn't know you was moonlighting as an online dominatrix, a little advice, though, probably shouldn't tell your mother."

"Oh my God, Grandma, no one else saw it did they?"

"No, I was gonna show Cecelia, but before she made it over with her walker something happened and the site went bye-bye and I couldn't get it back again. Don't worry, probably just one a them worm viruses or Trojan horses making the rounds. I see you brought your Cuban hottie with you today," she turned to Ranger, "they were some nice flowers you sent over to my hospital room, Clara and the girls were making over them, Clara said those were the fancy kind of flowers you send when you get caught red-handed with the babysitter."

Ranger got a big smile on his face and eyed me dangerously.

"I'm glad you liked them Mrs. Mazur, but the only babysitter I know is standing right here," he said, squeezing my arm, "and nobody's caught me with her yet."

Grandma grinned and winked at me. I reached over and poked Ranger in the solar plexus,

"Don't encourage her." I said. "Okay, Gram, why don't you give us a tour of this place?"

Grandma started to roll herself around, but Ranger stepped behind her and smoothly maneuvered the chair, probably safer to have her hands in front where he could see them.

We rolled Grandma down the hall and several people stopped to say 'hello' and a few of the women asked if Ranger was, in fact, the man of mystery who sent Edna the special flowers. We got to Grandma's room and peeked in. The rooms were as nice as the suites at the Westin, where I had stayed with Ranger while on a stakeout.

"I got a private room and at two o'clock they come around with a treat cart and give you whatever you want off it, for free."

She said it was _free_, but I was pretty sure _someone_ was paying for all those extra amenities, and the ding-dongs from the treat cart.

"They're really nice here, and our hostess, Michelle has me booked for a three o'clock mani-pedi. This is like going to a fancy resort. Big Jim calls it Club MED-icare. And since I'm here, I was thinking maybe there are some other things I need fixing that require rehab, I just don't know what they are yet. Bernice Goetz had her joints replaced one after the other and she was here for eight months. They come and wait on ya, make your bed, and bring ya coffee, some rooms even allow pets.

A little before three o'clock we left Grandma at the nail salon and headed out the door. I turned to Ranger, "Don't you have some work to do?"

"I'm doing it," he said.

I had no idea what he meant by that. And what did he have planned for nine o'clock, and when did I agree to have dinner with him? And why was he being so nice to me and helping take care of the girls? It was a bunch of uncertainty, wrapped in discomfort and tied up with a big bow of annoyance.


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't own these characters and I don't make money off of them.**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

Ranger and I pulled into the cutout lane at Blessed Sacrament to wait for the girls. We were plenty early so I told him all about my meeting with Sister Camilla earlier. "So, you went to school here when you were a girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, we all did, Mary Lou, Val, Betty Anne, Eddie, Carl, even Joyce was here. Speaking of Joyce," I said, her Escalade pulled up behind us and she cut the engine.

Ranger cleared his throat and proceeded cautiously,

"I went to catholic school myself, over on the West side, I was an altar boy, communion, confirmation, the whole thing."

I was sure he was baiting me, I sat looking at him with a scornful smile waiting for the punch-line, but when it didn't come I straightened up,

"You're really serious?"

"Yeah, Babe, I did have a childhood."

"So you weren't delivered in a life pod from the planet Krypton? Wait, do you have any photos, cause I'd like to see you in that little dress the altar boys wear."

"I'll ask my mother if she can come up with one, but it'll cost ya." He wasn't being deadly serious, but he wasn't being sarcastic either, so this is Ranger making small talk, "weird" I thought.

We talked awhile longer until he said, "Let's go break out the prisoner, before they release the rest of the inmates."

Ranger got out of the Tahoe and walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. We walked to the building and Ranger held the doors for me. We headed for the office where I had seen Sister Camilla earlier in the day. Thankfully, she was nowhere around. The civilian looked up from her computer and at the sight of Ranger lost her ability to talk.

"We're here for Angela Kloughn," he informed her. She just pointed a finger toward the detention room. Ranger waited at the front desk while I got Angie ready to go. Her bruised eye had gotten darker during the day. There was a dark purple half moon directly below and the socked around her eyebrow was black and blue.

We met Ranger in the outer office and Angie stopped. She reached into her backpack and handed him a piece of paper. He studied it for a moment, and then he looked at her, nodded and held out his balled hand. She gave him a fist-bump and they both smiled. We loaded into the Tahoe waiting for Mary Alice. Ranger was turned, talking to Angela and I jumped when I heard a loud knock on my window, Joyce. I rolled down my window and she stuck her head in. She looked at Ranger and instantly tampered herself,

"Oh, hi, Ranger," she cooed, as she took her hand and tucked her hair into place behind her ear. She backed up a bit and focused on me.

"Look Plum, I hear boom-boom back there gotta hold my Josie in Gym today. You tell that sister of yours and her wannabe lawyer husband that they'll be hearing from my attorney if Josie's got anything wrong with her."

What she got wrong with her not even Perry Mason or Matlock could fix. The bell rung, the kids flooded out, Mary Alice catapulted herself into the back seat and buckled in. She turned to her sister,

"Cool, look at your eye!"

Ranger drove all of us to Rangeman and we piled out of the Tahoe and into the elevator. He headed to his office and the girls and I stopped by the break room for some after-school treats. Ella came by and told me not to worry, that she would keep an eye on the girls. I worked at my desk while Angie and Mary Alice played in the gym with Les and Hector. After I finished up my last search I went to Ella's apartment. The girls were sitting on the sofa finishing a move about the Special Forces. Mary Alice was wearing a U.S. Army camo cap with "Santos" stamped on the back. We gathered our things and I told Mary Alice we would find Lester and give him his hat.

"He gave it to Angie, but she's letting me wear it. He told her she'd earned it for getting the cool black eye and all."

"What did you do in the gym this afternoon?"

"Well, Angie told Les and Hector about her 'incident' with Josie Barnhardt so Hector showed us a new game, it's called 'Smack Down and Dash."

We headed for the elevator but before we left we took a detour to thank Lester for the hat. Most of the guys were assembled in the conference room. I tapped on the open door and Ranger waved us in. The girls said their "good-byes" and then they got to Ranger.

"We thought of a name for our pet mouse," said Mary Alice.

Ranger just crooked an eyebrow at her and waited.

Angie spoke up, "After careful consideration, we decided to name him after you." Ranger just looked blankly, wondering what he had done to deserve such an honor.

"Ranger Mouse, rhymes with Danger Mouse," Bobby chuckled. Ranger gave him a stern glare.

"Not Ranger," said Angie, his _real_ name."

"You're calling him Carlos?" I asked?

"No, his other name, in honor of Ranger, we are naming our mouse Ricardo, only, we are using the English translation." Hector and Lester looked up and smiled.

Angie stated proudly, "we've decided to name him Richard." And, I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it; it only took one look at Les and I burst out laughing, and Hector was next to me doubled over. And tears formed at the corners of my eyes and I was smiling, that is, until Ranger came over, put his fingers on the back of my neck, and his husky voice whispered in my ear, "See you tonight, Babe."

The Pino's box was in the trash and Angie and Mary Alice were in their beds. Nine o'clock was fast approaching and I still hadn't come up with one good excuse for packing up the girls and driving to New Orleans, so in the dwindling minutes, I sat on the sofa and offered up a prayer.

Dear God, I'm really trying to be good here. And I don't want to do anything that would cause a news satellite to fall out of orbit onto my car. But just in case, if I slip up and I'm going to hell anyway, could you give me a little fair warning, cause I would really like one more night with Ranger, ya know, guilt free.

The front doorbell rung at nine o'clock. I looked through the little peephole but it wasn't Ranger. Manuel Vivanco was staring back at me. I opened the door.

"Hello?" His flat top was spiked with hair gel and he shone like a new penny, and he smelled faintly of exotic spices, he was definitely edible. He was wearing a lime green light knit v-neck sweater with a white tee underneath and some grey Armani jeans with Sperry boat shoes. And I smiled at him until I saw the suitcase.

"May I come in?" he asked, as he brushed past me rolling the overnight bag.

"Don't mean to rush darling, but we have to get things heated up or I'll be here all night, and Ricardo said you needed it, baaad!"

"Hey!" I was about to launch into a litany of reasons why I was offended by this set-up, but then Manuel breezed past me, went into the kitchen and turned the oven dial. He laid the suitcase on the floor and came up with a little soufflé pan.

Pans hadn't been the only thing in Manuel's bag of tricks. There was flour, powdered chocolate, sugar, lots of sugar, and a nice red Zinfandel with some cheese and grapes. I sat across the counter from the kitchen and watched as he measured, mixed and stirred. He set three recipes in front of me and I sipped my wine and scanned the note cards as he explained what he was doing. The cream puffs were actually quite easy. The batter was almost like a dough you just scooped on the pan and baked like cookies. The second pan of creampuff casings were ready and he brought out a pastry bag and showed me how to pipe in the filling. I ate one for every three I filled and Manuel just laughed as I opened my mouth and main-lined a little of the creamy goodness.

"So what did you do before culinary school?"

"Dancing, darling, I wanted to be a dancer, so I bought my ticket and went to the Big Apple and did my thing for as long as I could pay the rent. Carmen and I were quite a pair, we had a great little walk-up on the upper West side, she was going to Columbia and I was doing auditions during the day and had dance gigs and kitchen prep at night."

He put on the oven mitts and pulled out a tray of gooey pecan bars.

"You mean Carmen Manoso? The two of you were dating?"

"Not dating," he chuckled, "roommates, best friends, we've been friends since grade school."

"So you knew Ranger when he was little," I said, "what was he like?"

"Ricardo? He was quiet, and calm, compared to everyone else I suppose. He had a bad streak, of course. All that testosterone had to channel itself somewhere. But very level-headed for someone coming from such a crazy family." Interesting.

Manuel put on the hand mitts and brought the mini chocolate soufflés out of the oven. He used a small saucepan to make a raspberry topping and after it had cooled a bit he took out the whipped cream he had made earlier. He topped the soufflés with the shiny red syrup and topped it off with the whipped cream. I took a sip of the pinot and sunk my fork into the middle of the little cake. Warm chocolate oozed from the center and when I put it in my mouth, the warm chocolate swirled around my tongue but the outer shell was light and crispy. I didn't know if Manuel Vivanco was straight, gay, bi, or metrosexual, but if Ranger had sent him over to help me have an orgasm, it was mission accomplished.

**Ranger's Point of View**

At 10:00 p.m. Joyce was sitting in a booth in the back of Shorty's. We had been in the lot when she pulled up in her Escalade. Bobby was already inside to monitor her alcohol consumption. I turned to Lester in the car,

"Alright lover boy, you know the plan?"

"Meet, leave, drug, questions, escape." He said.

"And don't fuck this up, I don't care what you have to do to get the information," I had to hold back a laugh when I said, "you might have to 'take one for the team' tonight, just remember, it's for Stephanie. I'll be watching from Shorty's office."

Lester put on the watch that contained the microphone; he flipped down the vanity mirror and checked his hair and teeth. He stuck a piece of gum in his mouth and got out of the car.

I took the back way to Shorty's office and watched the scene unfold from the mirrored window. I saw Les walk up to Joyce and greet her. She looked up at him and raked her eyes over his body. Whatever he was thinking, he was hiding it well, smiling and turning on the charm. A waitress came by the table and they ordered something. I put the receiver in my ear and listened in.

"You look familiar, don't you work for Manoso?"

Her eyes flashed and she licked her lips.

"Yeah," said Lester, "and I thought I recognized you, you work for Vinnie." Good deflection.

"Sometimes, right now I'm working for Scudder and Surry as a field agent."

"Cool."

"So is Ranger into, ya know, this type of thing?" She was fishing for info on me.

"Oh, yeah, I hear he's big into S and M," Joyce's nipples got hard and she wiggled in her seat, "he likes to dominate, a real control freak," Lester looked into the mirrored window right at me, "you could even say he's the reason I'm here."

"Huh, How's that?" she asked.

"Work. You know, working for him gets very stressful, he's such a prick, by the end of the day I need to find some kind of release."

"Oh I get it," she laughed, "I saw from your profile you haven't been online for hookups long."

"Aw, no, you could say I'm quite new to this."

I saw Joyce put her hand on this thigh, and he tensed a little.

"Then let me explain how it works. We're gonna go back to my place, we can do it however you want it, and I record it so we can watch it later. And I hope you don't mind, but I like to dress up, get into character, you know, role play."

The waitress brought their drinks. Joyce had a screwdriver and Santos had a whisky with a Coke back. As soon as the drinks were on the table, he slammed the whisky, ignored the Coke and asked for another shot.

"Anything I should know about, do you like tools, golden showers, bondage, hot candle wax?"

"Sex," he said dryly. "I'm into sex."

"Well, we definitely have that in common, but, specifically, what type."  
"Everything," he said, robotically.

"Oh good," said Joyce, "I can do that." He gulped.

She went over some rules and told him the "safe" word would be maraschino, "as in cherry," she said. "And since your profile said you were into being the sub, I think you'll make a good little bitch," She gave him a wicked smile and I think I saw him convulse before shifting in his seat. Serves him right, the little pajero.

Joyce got up to use the restroom and Santos started talking into his watch.

"Boss, we got a little problem, she's gonna kick me to the curb in a minute. I'm not even flying at half mast here, no wood, deflatio, nada."

I laughed into the mic just to piss him off.

"Oh, I got that covered too, I'm just three steps ahead of you today, Santos; that's what happens when you watch too much porn at night, your little pijo can't handle it. I had Bobby slip a little blue pill into your drink. No worries _cousin_, you'll be flying the flag in, lets see, what did the literature say," I read from the little pamphlet, "allow 30 to 60 minutes for full effect.'"

Lester looked at me through the smoked mirror, mouth hanging open, "no, you didn't," he said.

I laughed again, "I'm a much bigger asshole than you thought. See, cousin, I was gonna take you to the mats, but I think a better punishment for you is to let Joyce take you to the mattress."

With that, Joyce returned from the bathroom and they left.

Joyce pulled into her driveway and the garage opened. In a moment a light turned on in her kitchen. There was the sound of bodies shuffling, then I heard Joyce moan and I believe Lester whimpered. "Oh, you're shy, I like that."

I heard a refrigerator open and drinks being poured.

"Do you have something a little stronger?" asked Santos.

"Sure, but take it easy, wouldn't want to dampen your performance," I heard her say.

"Yeah, somehow I don't think that's gonna be a problem," he trailed off.

"Gawd, I guess not, look at the size of that thing, your profile wasn't lying, course I do tend to have that effect on men, honey, I'll be right back."

Lester talked aloud to let me know where they were.

"Basement huh?"

"Yep, but I think you'll like what I've got down there."

"Whoa!" I heard him say, "this is like Adult Disneyland, have you used all of this stuff?"

"That's what it's here for. I like to take a walk on the wild side too, just like you." She must have kissed him because his voice was muffled, "whaar do ya wanna do firsss," he browke away and took a breath. She was on her third drink by now, and he had been close enough to give her the injection, something was wrong.

"Do you have a bathroom down here?" He asked.

I listened intently for his report when he got out of earshot.

"Carlos, we have a problem, the syringe, she moved and it fell, she stepped on it." I gritted my teeth, followed protocol and dialed his phone. If you want something done right you have to do it yourself. Lester picked up, frantic.

"Boss?"

"Tell her I have to talk to you about work and talk her into letting me stop by, suggest a three-way, she'll say yes. When I get there, follow my lead."

I got off my phone and readied myself, I grabbed the little kit Bobby had assembled and put it in my pocket. I got out of my car and opened the trunk. I slipped into a button down shirt and left it open at the collar. I splashed on a little bit of Bulgari and did a final inventory of my equipment. Unlike Lester, I wouldn't need Viagra. I took out my wallet and looked at the little picture of Stephanie I kept behind my Black American Express card. I thought about her for the next few minutes and I thought about her naked and moving over my body. My body grew hard and my pulse a little quicker. I'd done hundreds of missions, and deceptions and distractions, but this had to be the strangest preparation for an interrogation, but of course, it involved Stephanie Plum.

I walked up the steps and listened at the front door. All the blinds were closed but I could see part of Joyce through a slit in the curtains. Santos sounded like he was in agony and ecstasy, begging and pleading with her,

"Please, I'm not… Oh God, that _does_ feel good." He moaned a little more. "No, no, Ranger's gonna be here soon, really, we've got all night.."

"Jesus, fuck, you're so hard, I can barely get my hand around it. I Just wanna give ya a little taste of what you're in for." I saw her drop to her knees and she was moving her head.

"Aawww, yes!, I mean, no!" said Santos.

She laughed a muffled laugh, like her mouth was full.

"Mariachi, no, um, mostachiolli," Santos barked.

Joyce laughed again as Lester fumbled for the word. Serves him right.

"Maraschino, that's it, maraschino." But I could see Joyce was still on her knees. I waited a minute and decided he'd had enough so I rang the bell.

In a minute Joyce answered, her lipstick was smeared and she was down to black leather lace-up boy shorts and a leather vest.

"Hello, Ranger," she said.

"Where's Lester?"

"He's inside," she moved aside and I walked into the living room. I looked at Lester, he seemed a little deranged, his hair was a mess, his shirt was mis-buttoned, and he had a blank stare on his face.

"Can I get ya something to drink?" Joyce offered.

I turned to answer her and I let her catch my eyes grazing over her body.

"See something you like?" she smiled. I laughed to myself; I've got her on the hook.

"Been a long day, drink sounds good. What are you having?"

"Sunrise." She said.

"I'll take mine without the O. J."

"Straight up Tequila, it is." She disappeared into her kitchen and I sat across from Lester.

"I've got this, just follow my lead." I told Lester.

Joyce returned and handed me the glass. I took the drink, grazing her hand. She had obviously had a few and was tipsy and relaxed.

"So kids, what's your game plan for tonight." I asked.

Joyce turned to me and in a bold move she walked her fingers up the front of my shirt and started playing with my collar, she truly was delusional, "Lester and I were just going to play a little game in my basement, care to join us?" Hook, line, and sinker. I was so good at this it was scary.

The men in the Manoso family did seem to have a certain way with women, Santos had it, but unlike me he had a hard time controlling his carnal urges, he had also been turned down plenty of times. But there was only one woman who's opinion mattered to me, and she seemed to be immune to my charms. I hoped no one else had her attention, and if someone did, I certainly hoped she wasn't going to act on any impulses, not before I had a second chance. At least it wouldn't happen tonight; about now she would be moaning in ecstasy over a chocolate soufflé.

I looked at the clueless woman in front of me. "I only play games when _I_ set the rules and _I_ get to be in charge."

Joyce agreed to my terms all too eagerly.

"I want you bent over a table and Santos has to watch."

Joyce practically ran to the basement.

When I got downstairs Joyce was pointing at a medical table she had in the corner.  
"Wanna play doctor?"

"Perfect," I couldn't help but smile, it was too poetic.

She did as I said and laid face down on the exam table.

"No peaking." I told her.

"Oh my God, you don't know how long I've waited for this, I can't believe it. I kinda knew you were just wasting time with that wannabe bounty hunter Plum."

Joyce Barnhardt did nothing for me physically, but the thought of exacting a little revenge for Stephanie, it actually gave me a hard on.

I was playing her, like I'd done dozens of times before with targets, making her feel secure before the strike. She laid face down on the table thinking she was about to get a three-way.

"Alright bad ass," I teased, "are you ready for me?"

Lester was to her left with his hand on her left shoulder leading her into a false sense of security, making sure she didn't open her eyes or turn her head.

"What's our safe word gonna be bad girl?" I asked her as I slinked my fingers around her wrists and slowly drew them up to the small of her back.

Her face was turned away from me but I saw her cheek plump into a smile and she licked her lips.

"How about Tanqueray?'" I had my handcuffs out of my belt hovering over her hands.

"Oh, you're a gin and tonic girl." I eased the cuffs around her wrists, slowly and evenly, clicking them to a comfortable level. She breathed out and moaned.

I had to keep her talking while I slipped the syringe from my pocket and drew the dose Bobby instructed.

"You sure you want me to give it to you from behind, right?" I soothed. I tapped out the air bubble and put the syringe between my teeth and started stroking the inside of her right wrist up to her elbow pumping up the vein until I felt it pulse in the crook of her arm.

Joyce moaned, "Oh yeah," and Lester applied a little more pressure to her shoulder, watching my eyes. I gave him a little nod.

"Party time," I said in a low voice, "I got what you want right here, and you're gonna get all of it."

I injected the juice, and I don't even think she felt the needle. She went slack for a few moments, but when she came around she told me everything she could. First off, Joyce didn't know the videos were on line in the U.S. And she also didn't know she was playing Stephanie when she put on the wig, it was at the request of the man paying her, he went by the screen name, Meet My Member. The movie deal was as we thought. She had met this guy in a hook-up chat room who offered her money to make the videos. She didn't know him, but I'm guessing he had prior knowledge of who she was. As long a he wired money to her account, she didn't ask questions. Briggs wasn't really involved, he just helped her with general computer operations and he sent her video files, but they were pass coded.

More disturbing was the fact that the dude was asking Joyce if she had any younger sisters, and he was willing to pay top dollar for any "barely legal" headshots. Whatever he had planned for those could not have been good. I was beginning to see a darker side to this, more than just a one-off deal to make money. I always say there are no coincidences. And Joyce, Stephanie's classmate, her arch enemy, who had been a bounty hunter and worked for Vinnie, I was convinced this was a person who knew both women.

By the time I was finished with my interrogation, I knew how Joyce cheated on her taxes, how she had managed to screw over all her ex husbands, her theory about the location of the Bat Cave and the real reason she had ridden Dickie Orr like a mechanical bull on Steph's new dining room table. And all of it was recorded.

It was well past one in the morning when I finished. Joyce was laying in her recliner asleep. Lester and I finished copying her hard drive then emptying her computer and any digital images. We checked to see that we had not been secretly recorded. Next we wiped down everything we had touched, and removed all DNA from her house.

I was about to leave when Les turned to me. "You may be a big prick, but man, cousin, that was poetry in motion right there."

I new he was kissing my ass over looking at the porn site. Thinking he had redeemed himself.

"You like poetry Santos," I said, "I got a limerick for ya,"

"There once was an asshole named Les,

Who got in a terrible mess,

He looked at my Babe,

Because he's depraved,

Where he is now, is anyone's guess."

Santos' face fell in shame. "Carlos.."

"Zip it, Santos. Listen carefully, you are gonna go pour out some of that booze and melt a little ice so she thinks she drank herself into a blackout. Check her vitals every fifteen minutes, and when Bobby says she's stable, you can leave." I looked at his still large zipper ripper and laughed.

"And hopefully that torpedo will get deactivated before she wakes up. Just so you know, I'm monitoring your computer, and if you _ever_ search for _plum_ jelly, or _Bounty_ fabric softener, or Holly _Hunter_, the next time I slip you Viagra, you'll be in a Turkish work camp with a lonely bunkmate named Grazoul.


	15. Chapter 15

**Stephanie's Point of View**

My eyes fluttered open and I woke in an unusual state of bliss. My body felt warm and relaxed and I couldn't help but smile. Must be the calming after effects of my sugar indulgence. Manuel Vivanco had "knocked it out of the park" with his pastry skills last night. Apparently the sugar rush from the evening before had comatosed my pleasure receptors. And technically, since my orgasm was an unintended side effect of raspberry chocolate lava soufflé I had not voided my holy state of grace. Okay, I may have had a second orgasm sometime during the night when I had another one of those naughty dreams about Ranger, but hey, I was asleep; that one couldn't possibly count against me, right? I picked up my phone from the bedside table and checked my "Sin No More" app on my Droid. I couldn't find anything about "dessert induced orgasm," so I figured I was in the clear. Before I got out of bed I did a little deep breathing, willing the day to remain quiet and peaceful.

Three days ago I literally had a "come to Jesus" meeting with Father Francisco in the confessional at Our Lady of Guadalupe. That meeting has allowed me to take communion without the worry of lightning bolts striking me down, or garbage trucks landing on my car. With three days left to serve as a Mass monitor for Blessed Sacrament Elementary School, I was feeling pretty good about my odds of living through Friday.

I jumped out of bed and started my morning routine. I glanced in Angie's room. She had made her bed and was already downstairs. I never really saw her cleaning, yet her room had a meticulous order about it. She was much like Val had been at that age, never really picked up after herself, she just instinctively knew where things needed to go. Just like Mary Poppins, items flying into their places as she snapped her fingers. I shuddered and closed her room door. Next I checked on Mary Alice. She had made a blanket tent between her bed and dresser; her feet sticking out beneath, and I could hear soft snoring. The Super Friends now had a zip-line that extended from her closet door handle to the bottom of her bed frame.

"Wake up sleepy, we have one hour till we leave for Mass," I said.

Mary Alice groaned and I saw a foot move.

I bounded downstairs and sure enough, Angie was sitting at the table eating a bowl of Cheerios, picture perfect, except for the blue and purple remnants of her black eye.

"Good morning," I said.

"Good morning Aunt Steph, would you like some cereal?"

"Yes please," I changed the filter in the coffeemaker and started a fresh pot. I went to the basement to retrieve a load of laundry from the dryer and when I walked back up to the kitchen, Ranger was walking in the back door carrying the Trenton Times. He was wearing black basketball shorts, running shoes, and a gray ARMY tee-shirt. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, illuminating his muscles as his presence filled the room. He looked delicious. I reached in the freezer and popped a precautionary cream puff into my mouth. He brushed past me into the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, even sweaty he smelled good. I skipped the cereal and started folding the basket of laundry at the dining room table. I picked up the flat king-sized bed sheet and wondered how the heck Val folded these suckers.

"So, how was your 'date,' last night?" I asked, referring to "Operation Joyce."

Ranger walked over to me and took two corners of the enormous bed sheet I was holding. I backed away from him to pull the fabric taut. We stood facing each other, eight feet of sheet between us. We each brought our corners together and folded the sheet into a long, narrow rectangle. Ranger stepped toward me to hand me his end.

"I only have one date this week and it isn't with Joyce," he said.

He bent down and picked up the newly folded edge and skillfully ran his index fingers along the edge between the folds, stepping back and pulling the fabric taut once again. I swallowed hard. He was talking about this Friday night. Before, he had called our future event "dinner," now it was a "date." Hmm, glad I ate that cream puff.

"Figure of speech," I said, "you know what I mean, did it go as planned?" trying to sound nonchalant about his "date" with my arch-enemy Joyce.

Again, we folded the sheet like a book then met in the middle.

"All will be revealed when you get to work today," he said, giving away nothing. He took the neatly folded cotton and put it on the table.

I reached in the laundry basket and began the impossible task of folding the fitted sheet neatly. Again he took one end and started nestling his two corners. I watched him and copied what he had done with my two corners, and the sheet started to fold easily.

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, looking at the sheet.

"Army Babe, just like folding a flag. You should see me make a bed." His eyes twinkled and my knees went a little weak. I'd seen him _in_ bed, and that was enough.

"Angie, would you please go see what is keeping Mary Alice," I asked. When Angie had reached the stairs I looked at him and asked, "so, about Friday," trying not to sound nervous, "what's on the agenda?"

He stepped to me again to hand me his ends of the sheet.

"Can't tell ya Babe, it's a surprise," he smirked.

I lost patience with the awkward fitted sheet and handed it off to him to finish. I grabbed a pair of jeans out of the laundry basket and folded them easily, making quick work of my thirty-four inch inseam. Ranger had folded three of Angie's tee shirts and one school jumper. I picked up one of my tee shirts and focused on it intently, hoping Ranger wouldn't notice how nervous I was about the thought of being on a date with him.

"Well, can you at least tell me what we're doing so I know what to wear?" I asked. I held the shirt out in front of me, shaking out the wrinkles. When I lowered it, he was standing right in front of me, holding up a pair of lace panties from the laundry basket, he growled in a low voice,

"how bout these?"

The girls came down the stairs, I grabbed my panties out of his hands with an eye roll. Ranger walked past the little breakfast bar into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee as I folded the rest of the clothes. All of a sudden Mary Alice let out a yelp.

"Look, look, Aunt Steffie, Grammie and Auntie Marge are in the paper." I walked to the breakfast bar and sure enough, above the nameplate of the Trenton Times was a photo and an overline which read "Trenton Couple to Renew Vows at Caribbean Bash, see Community sec. A-2."

When Angie turned to the local section there were pictures of the smiling Molnars standing with the original wedding party. My dad looked slightly annoyed and my mom looked totally sloshed. Mary Lou was standing next to Lenny smiling and happy.

"What does it say?" asked Mary Alice.

Ranger came up behind me and placed the warm mug of coffee in my hand and rested a hand on my lower back. We all peered over the newspaper and Angie began to read.

"Chambersburg Couple Celebrates Thirty-Fifth in Caribbean Style. Anthony and Margaret Molnar of Chambersburg will celebrate their wedding anniversary tonight in exotic fashion on the island of Antigua. The banquet hall in the famed La Costa resort is set in grand style for one hundred fifty guests, most of whom arrived with them aboard the cruise ship Jewel of the Sea…"

I recognized the name of the writer. Deena Winston was on the list of people who had received an invitation, and she was reporting on the event. I also knew her from the articles she had done for the Trenton Times about the Bombshell Bounty Hunter.

"Hey, look there's mom and Albert," pointed Mary Alice.

Valerie looked like she was having a good time. I could faintly see Hal and Leta in the background and I put my index finger on his image and looked back at Ranger and smiled. Ranger was looking at me and when our eyes met he nodded his head, moved his hand to my hip and gave it a squeeze.  
"Looks like they're having a good time, especially my mother," I said.

I cleared my throat, "Alright girls, we need to leave for Mass, Angie, you can finish reading the article in the car on the way to school."

I busied myself shoving the paper in my bag and stuffing the folded laundry into the basket. I could feel Ranger staring at me and I didn't want to look at him, this wasn't about to turn into a pity party, I was glad for Molnars, right? I was glad for everybody on the trip, I told myself.

"Mary Alice, please feed Rex and Richard." I said, giving Ranger a smirk when I mentioned his namesake.

I rinsed the cups and bowls and put them in the sink. The girls were at the door, dressed in their school uniforms, backpacks in hand. We walked out the back door and Ranger set the alarm.

"What are your plans for the day, Babe?"

"I have a few stops to make then an early lunch with Lula, so I'll be in around noon."

We left driving opposite directions and I was a little curious to pass a Rangeman vehicle parked at the corner, just the right spot to see the front door and the alley entrance.

I stood, sat, and kneeled my way through mass, thinking about the course my life had taken. As a bounty hunter, I thought I had made pretty decent progress and when I wasn't saddled with babysitting and unable to haul in skips and work distractions for Ranger, my bills got paid with enough left over. Father McMahon led the Penitential Rite, we got to the part where we ask the Lord to have mercy, then Christ have Mercy, then Lord have Mercy again, I guess, in case he didn't hear us the first time. Then we had a silent moment of reflection where everyone is supposed to examine their conscience with their eyes closed. When I was in school this would be the time where Mary Lou and I would open our eyes and make faces at each other. I remembered once in ninth grade Mary Lou was sitting two rows behind me. I stuck out my tongue and turned to face her, starring into the darkly amused eyes of Joe Morelli. After that, Joe had asked Eddie if I was going to the football game that Friday.

I hadn't thought about Joe since Monday, since he had allowed me to sit in jail while he ate carrot cake. I knew he was not happy I had refused to get back with him, but never had he been so mean before. I was finished being sad about our break-up but I was refusing to forgive him. So when Father McMahon said, "May Almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins…." something seemed to click in my brain. Forgiveness.

After the smoke had cleared from the Newark Hotel fiasco, Joe had actually asked me when I was going to "forgive" him so we could move past his cheating and get back together. And maybe I wasn't _forgiving_ him because I didn't _want_ to get back together. In fact, I had told him I would call him when I was ready, which was just another way for me to put off dealing with the situation. And maybe I wanted to leave that door open because deep down I was afraid if I made a final break with Joe, there wouldn't be anybody else. My life would just be a never-ending string of disappointing men who never reached the pinnacle of what Joe and I had been. And in forty years they'd find me dead in my apartment, alone, surrounded by thirty-seven hamsters.

Mass finished and I herded my group across the parking lot toward the school. I heard a familiar voice and looked over.

"Hey Steph, how's it going?"

I recognized Gloria Jean Juniak and her daughters Jessica and Marta. Gloria Jean was my cousin-in-law and she and Val had been classmates growing up. She had married the State Cop turned Police Chief turned Mayor, but they still lived in the Burg in their same house and sent their children to Blessed Sacrament.

"Oh, hey, I'm good, nice to see you."

"Mass Monitor?" she asked. "Yeah, Val's of town and she kinda forgot to tell me she was up for duty."

"And let me guess, Sister Camilla sent home a letter telling you to report, of else." She said.

We both laughed a little.

"She even recommended a trip to the confessional, ya know, so I wouldn't spontaneously combust when I walked through the church door."

Gloria Jean nodded in understanding. Then she said under her breath,

"By the way, nice job with Angie, I know I shouldn't say this, but I guess after yesterday, what she did to Nosy Josie, she's a real hero among the fifth grade girls."

I just looked at her wide-eyed and she nodded in affirmation. A few more girls had walked up and assembled around Angie and Mary Alice,

"That kid's been nothing but trouble since kindergarten. We've switched teachers twice since first grade to keep her away from Jessica."

I breathed a little sigh. Thank God this wasn't just our family.

"Well, we really should get the girls together. Jessica's been begging for a play date with Angie. And I know Mary Alice and Marta always have fun together. What are they doing today after school? Why don't I take them with us after school, we could make a little stop by the Tasty Pastry then go home and play in the back yard. You could come by, say five-thirty and pick them up?"

Angie and Jessica overheard our conversation and started begging loudly,

"please, please Aunt Steffie."

"Sounds like a plan.." how could I say "no."

They cheered and I got a huge group hug. I have to admit, this parenting is a lot of work, but there were a few perks. The teachers were taking the kids into the building. Angie was walking with Jessica and another girl. Michael Potuto was next to her talking with another boy, but I saw him stealing glances. When Angie approached Josie Barnhardt near the school door, she walked right past her without a glance. I got a little stab of emotion: joy, pride, relief, I wasn't sure. I turned and smiled and walked to Ranger's car.

I made my usual rounds, did the plant watering and the cat feeding, and the newspaper gathering. It was around ten thirty when I pulled up to the Bonds office. I saw Lula's Firebird and smiled. I shook my head and laughed out loud when I read her newest bumper sticker, "If You're Going To Ride My Ass, At Least Pull My Hair." This sat opposite her signature "Worship Me And We'll Get Along Just Fine."

I walked in the door and Lula started waving her hands frantically. She was wearing a black fitted peplum shirt over leopard stretch pants and black high-heeled boots with zippers that ran from the heels all the way up the back of her calves. Her hair was teased out in a wilder version of eighty's Claire Huxtable and she pulled it all together with metallic gold and blue eye shadow.

"OMG you'll never guess what I just heard from Shawna at Pole Position. Her eyes were big and I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets if I didn't relieve some of the pressure.

"Spill it," I ordered.

You know Officer Olmney, that young, hot cop.

Yes, all too well. I remembered him because he had been one of the responding officers at Joe's house on Monday when I got arrested.

"Shauna was giving Officer 'O' a private lap dance on his flag pole when Morelli shows up, pulls him into the alley and beats the crap out of him."

Connie chimed in.

"Word is, Olmney was at Joe's house for three hours taking Angelina Collingsworth's statement on Monday."

"Fff-udge" I gasped, "I thought she and Joe were hot and heavy."

"So did everyone else, girlfriend," answered Lula.

"Connie said he had a black eye when she went to the station this morning." Connie looked at me and nodded.

We gabbed a bit more talking about the article in the paper and Lula's recent skips when I caught Connie staring out the window.

"Shit Steph, here comes spawn of Satan, what the hell does she want?"

I looked over my shoulder and saw Joyce's black escalade come to a halt outside the office. "Crap, she may be looking for me, Angie gave her cousin's kid Josie a bloody nose." Or this could be about Ranger and last night, and I didn't want to get in the middle of that mess.

"She can't see me," I said in a panic.

"Get in Vinnie's office," said Connie.

"I'm scared to go in there alone," I blurted.

Lula grabbed my arm, shuffled me into the office and closed the door.

"Here," she whispered. Pointing to the computer on Vinnie's desk. Lula picked up a Kleenex to shield her hand, then she got on Vinnie's computer and brought up the video and feed from the cameras.

"He thinks we don't know bout this," she whispered. "He used to just have video, now he has audio too, check it out." She brought out a little bottle of hand sanitizer, squeezed it on the mouse and wiped it with another Kleenex, then she toggled up the sound. Neither of us was about to sit in his chair, thinking about all the times he had been in there with Joyce, or worse, alone. We stood at his desk and watched the monitor. In a moment the front door jingled and Joyce slunk in. She was wearing black sunglasses, black denim jeans, and a black leather motorcycle jacket to match her black heart, if in fact she had one. Her skin looked sickly pale and she was walking at an awkwardly slow pace. The light seemed to bother her, and if I doused her with Hoy water and garlic she just might melt. Connie looked up at the camera and shrugged. Joyce wobbled her way to Connie's desk,

"Vinnie was gonna leave some files for me," Joyce said in a barely audible voice.

"What?" barked Connie, "speak up, I can't hear you."

"Joyce grabbed her head and the corners of her mouth turned down."

"Sshhhhhh," said Joyce, "Jesus, not so loud."

"Long night!" she shouted again. Got to love Connie.

Joyce cringed again and moved her hands to her forehead,

"Did he leave the files or not?"

"What happened to Sutter and Surry, I thought you worked for them?" asked Connie.

"I, um, decided to go another direction," she eluded, which meant she got fired.

"Come on, the files," Joyce held out her hand.

Connie picked up the phone. She must have called Vinnie. Then she turned toward the cabinet behind her and started pulling papers. Joyce sunk to the chair beside the desk and put her head down. Connie made sure to make lots of noise, slamming the drawers and humming loudly.

The door jingled again and Lester strode in. Oh crap, I thought. I motioned for Lula to turn up the volume to the speaker and we listened intently. Joyce looked at Lester and tried to straighten her appearance, she tried to smile a bit. He walked up to Connie's desk and handed her some receipts.

"Hey ladies, Connie, these are for Rangeman,"

"Sure thing Les." She put Joyces files on the desk,

"These are for you," Connie pointed to Joyce, then she retreated to the computer monitor on the other side of the office.

Lester looked down at Joyce and looked around before speaking, "did you have a good time last night?" he asked her.

Joyce just looked at him blankly through the glasses, "Um, I think so, what exactly…"

"Don't you remember?" asked Les looking a little offended.

"Um, not really, I had that shot of tequila when we got to my house, then what?"

"I can honestly say it didn't go as expected," said Lester.

She hesitsted, "did Ranger?"

Les cut in, "He came over to talk to me about work, then you suggested that he.." Les bent over and whispered something in Joyce's ear. Her whole body jolted knocking her glasses askew and her white face turned beet red. She sat staring at Lester with the glasses sitting cock-eyed on her face. "Oh my God, what did he say?" It must have been bad, I thought, because this was Joyce, I didn't think anything could embarrass her, she had no shame.

"Ranger just shook his head and left." Les told her.

"Oh," she looked a little relieved.

"Did we," she looked at Les, pointing between them.

"Naww, I tried, but you passed out, too much of that top shelf liquor."

Joyce used the side of the desk to help herself stand, she grabbed the files and started to leave. Just then the bell above the front door rung and Ranger walked in. Joyce let out a small shriek and looked away at the floor before scurrying out. Ranger didn't speak, didn't even look at her, but continued on to Connie. Connie and Ranger were discussing something that got her digging around in the file cabinet out of mic range.

Lula and I both stared at the monitor. Lula let out a little moan when Ranger's backside came into view. I elbowed her in the ribs.

"Aw come on, girl," she whispered, "you'd have to be dead to not look at that." She was right.

Ranger was standing beside Lester talking in a low voice.

"Damage control?" Ranger asked.

"Naw, more like Bobby predicted, she really looses track of events after we return to her house. She knows you came by, but she doesn't seem to remember past the shot of tequila. She was trying to get me to fill in the blanks. You gonna tell Stephanie what happened after that?"

My ears perked up and I leaned in closer to listen to the speaker.

"That was purely an unintended consequence of this operation. That information could do more harm than good, given Steph's history with Dickie and Joyce, it stays between us." Lester nodded his head.

I looked at Lula. Her eyes got huge and her mouth dropped open.

"Oh my God," she mouthed, "Ranger and Joyce?"

I shook my head back and forth, in part to roll the idea around a bit in my head.

"No way. Ranger would not, could not, has not, and will not, not with Joyce."

"Then what's ol Les talking bout?"

Hmm, good question. And I _would_ be finding out later. Where I was concerned, Lester didn't need a truth serum, all I had to do was ask, he had a soft spot for me. In fact, when ever we needed info about anything Rangeman, "Les, I Must Confess," was our guy. He gave us the scoop on Tank, he told us about the newest Rangeman employees, and if it wasn't classified, I could even count on him to drop a dime on Ranger.

After Lester and Ranger left I grabbed Lula and we loaded in her Firebird and headed for Pino's. We grabbed a table near the front. I ordered the meatball sub with extra cheese and fries, and Lula ordered the Buffalo Chicken sub with deep-fried mushrooms.

Lula gave me an appraising look. "How's it going girl, you got a lot on your plate this week. Who knew when you lost your passport you would fall into such a big pile of doo-doo."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Did that Italian stallion pull his head out of his ass and get that skank to drop the charges yet?" I shook my head and picked at my sub. We continued to eat our food and Lula told me about her latest skip fiasco and how Tank came to her rescue.

"Oh hell, speak of the sexy devil," she said, staring behind me.

I heard boots on the floor come to a halt beside me. I looked up expecting to see Tank, instead, I was staring at Joe. He looked at me then Lula,

"Ladies," he said. He gave Lula a silent stare and the universal head tilt that meant "beat it."

Lula grabbed her purse and jumped from the table,

"gotta go, that thing we were talking bout, ya know, gotta do that, now, yeah, see ya," she winked at me and disappeared.

Joe just stood there waiting while I pondered the now vacant seat across from me.

"May I?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip. Joe took a seat across from me and gave me a half-smile. He waited and when I didn't speak he cleared his throat and begin to talk.

"Look Steph, I'm sorry about the incident at the house."

He waited for me to say something, but when I didn't he continued,

"see, I , um," he chuckled a bit, "I was under the impression you were,"

I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to continue.

"I thought you were, well, you know, I saw that website, and I thought.."

Oh my God, there it was, now it made sense. My eyes shot open and I was about to launch into an Italian tirade, but then I stopped. In an even voice I said,

"you thought I had consented to using my image on a porn site."

He breathed out a sigh,

"sounds stupid now that I think about it, but I know you are short on cash, and well.."

Again with a low even voice,

"You thought I was earning money from the images on the site."

"I, um, I'm sorry Steph, I should have known you wouldn't have done that, I just haven't been able to think straight since you left. I miss you. I need you. I really… I want to make this right, to make this work, can't we just start over and get this back on track? Can't you just find it in your heart to forgive me so we can move on?"

I searched his brown eyes and nodded my head slowly at firs, then with resolve.

"Yes, yes I can forgive you so we can move on."

His eyes perked up a bit and he relaxed into the booth.

"I just have to know Joe, how did you find out about the site, how do you know it's unauthorized?"

He switched to his all-business cop voice, "because a federal warrant was issued this morning for Rangeman to trace some internet accounts to try to find the creator of the site. Apparently they have located the server but don't know the identity of the real person. They need a subpoena to track the sources. It's a ton of paperwork and a serious matter. The FBI has a guy working on it."

"What?"

"You didn't know?" ask Joe, surprised. "I guess you couldn't have," he amended, "just happened early this morning." Interesting, but I would have to think about the warrant later.

"So, to answer my question," I said to Joe, "you know I am being exploited because of the paperwork filed by Rangeman?"

"Yes," he said, looking hopeful.

"Got it," I said. "That helps with what I'm about to say." I cleared my throat.

"I've thought about everything that has happened between us, and I have decided I am going to forgive you."

A look of relief passed Joe's face and he smiled and started to speak. "Steph that's …"

"And!" I held up my hand, "Let me finish."

His smile lessened a bit.

"And, just to be clear, when I say I forgive you so we can move past this, I don't mean 'move past together,' I mean 'you move your way and I move my way.'"

Joe's face immediately dropped, and he started to argue,

"What, why, you just said you forgave me."

"And I do, because it is the right thing to do, but I can't be with someone who would think for a moment I would allow my body to be used in that way, and profit from it. Then there's the obvious reasons like our disagreement over my job, and the fact you want me to stay home and have nine kids, and all."

"Oh my God, this is because you're fucking Manoso.."

"This isn't about him, it's about you. It's about how you don't really know me at all, and how you think so low of me. It's about how you think an apology erases what you have done to me, and how you ignored me when I asked for your help." My stomach was queasy and I felt a little tremor in my knees but on the outside I was composed.

"I know, cupcake, I'm sorry, I really am." He was pleading now and I wasn't going to have it.

"That may be, Joe, but this is over, and it is over for good, forever. I'm sorry."

He took another approach,

"Is this about Angelina, because if it is, I can assure you, I am done with her, I broke it off, she is history."

Now I was sad, he had resorted to lying,

"Way I heard it, she dumped you for Olmney."

I stood, threw some bills on the table and grabbed my bag. I turned to leave and felt Joe's hand on my forearm and the room went quiet. When I looked back he had a serious look on his face.

"I did love you, ya know."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Carl rising from his seat. I swallowed hard, pulled my arm from his grasp and walked out the door.

I sat in the Tahoe for a moment and tried to gather my thoughts. I did some more deep breathing to calm my heart rate, expecting tears that never came. Was this really "it" I wondered? I had been without Joe for awhile and my life hadn't fallen apart. I decided this had been one of the tasks I had needed to do, and I mentally crossed it off my list. If, in fact, I was going to die the crazy lonely hamster lady I should probably look into getting a few new habitats, maybe the cool plastic ones with the bright-colored tubes that go in all directions. I turned the ignition and pulled out of the lot. I noticed the black Range Rover with heavily tinted windows. Lester, I thought, "I'll be seeing you later."


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 15 and to all the new followers. I will try to respond to your comments, and I will try to update weekly, if possible. And you Guest reviewers, Donna, wish I had a way to respond to you personally. Unscientific poll, trying to decide how broad to make this story. I'm thinking around 90,000 – 100,000 words, which would be about 8 to 10 more chapters, too long, too short? Want to get this angst out of the way so I can get to more of the fun stuff!**

**I do not own these characters, I do not make money from this story.**

**End of Chapter 15 - **

**I sat in the Tahoe for a moment and tried to gather my thoughts. I did some more deep breathing to calm my heart rate, expecting tears that never came. Was this really "it" I wondered? I had been without Joe for awhile and my life hadn't fallen apart. I decided this had been one of the tasks I had needed to do, and I mentally crossed it off my list. If, in fact, I was going to die the crazy lonely hamster lady I should probably look into getting a few new habitats, maybe the cool plastic ones with the bright-colored tubes that go in all directions. I turned the ignition and pulled out of the lot. I noticed the black Range Rover with heavily tinted windows. Lester, I thought, "I'll be seeing you later."**

**Ranger's Point of View**

I jumped in my BMW, nodded to Lester and pulled away from the Bonds office. I had two stops to make before lunch. I pulled up to Our Lady, off Stark, grabbed my computer bag and walked through the Rectory past the secretary's office and to a back room. I knocked once and Father Ramos met me at the door.

"Ricardo," he smiled as I walked into the humble office past the photos of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary. I took my usual seat in front of the dark stained oak desk and he closed the door.

He slapped my back on the way to his chair.

"How's it going, brother?"

We weren't brothers by blood, but I've known Francisco Ramos for two decades and he knew me, all too well. We'd gone through basic training and one tour of duty together before he got discharged and went into the Seminary. He'd come a long way from the wannabe gangbanger I knew fifteen years ago. He had my skin tone, about my height, with a slighter build. His hair was barber cut parted neatly on the side, and he wore army issued black rimmed reading glasses. He appeared soft, meek even, but I knew he still worked out, and in a fight, my money was on him.

"Can't complain, busy though, got a lot going on." I said.

"Sounds like it, lots of burglaries, I hear. Did you have time to look over the reading?"

"I read it." I said.

"Hated it, though, I can tell," he laughed.

"Look, I'm about to make the biggest leap of faith in my life here, can you remind me how Psalms is gonna help with that."

"My goal is to help you create a life outside of your job, Ric. You are about to end your active service and career soldiers have a hard time transitioning into normal routines once they are no longer active. The Big Wasabi himself called me and told me to handle this, or he will refuse your contract termination. If you don't work with me, they are gonna make you talk to a military shrink, its standard procedure for a person with your military clearance, so it's your choice."

I knew he was trying to help, but I wasn't gonna make it easy for him. About a month ago I decided it was time to pull the plug on my on-call missions. One of the conditions of my resignation is an evaluation from a psychologist or clergy trained to counsel soldiers. I didn't completely buy into the biblical guidance Francisco was suggesting, but it was better than the Freudian lets-talk-about-your-mother crap the military had to offer.

"So, tell me Ric, how's everything going with this 'mystery woman?'"

"A little slow." I confessed.

"Last time we met, I suggested you do some ordinary things normal people do together; were you able to accomplish any of those?" he asked.

"I made her breakfast, folded laundry, heck, I even babysat for her."

"She has kids?"

"She's watching her nieces and needed some help." He looked a little astonished.

"You really love this woman, don't you." I always was transparent to him.

"If something doesn't change, I'm gonna lose her, bro."

"Did you open up a little, ya know, talk about things other that work?"

"A bit, I tried telling her a little about my childhood; she didn't believe I was an altar boy, she ask me for proof," this got a good laugh from him.

"Sounds like you're both bad at this. Keep trying, just a little at a time. And help her when she needs it, whether she asked for it or not?" he reminded.

I wondered what Stephanie would think about this conversation. "She's got, what the church might call an 'insubordinate nature.'" I chuckled. "But don't even try to sell me that 'woman being submissive to the man,' crap."

Francisco held up his hands in surrender,

"Huh, with the women in _your_ family, there's no _way_ I would even _suggest_ it. They know where I live. I'm afraid of two things: Rosa Manoso and God, and in _that_ order."

All I could do was nod in agreement. His eyes lit up with another idea.

"And I hope you are showing her that you are a man, not a deity, Ricardo, there's only one son of God, or do I need to remind you?" he said with a sly smile.

I pointed a finger at my old friend, "As I recall, you used to think _you_ were God's gift to women." This got both of us laughing. It was true, when we ran together he was the suave one, always worried about his hair, putting on aftershave, always had a condom in his pocket.

"I just realized," I pointed to his white-collar, "I'm taking relationship advice from a man who's never going to the boneyard again." He howled at my comment and shook his head.

"Hah, and leave it to you to remind me! But seriously, every baser and civie we knew could have sex, that's the easy part." I knew he was right about that, too many of the men I served with were divorced, cheating, unhappily married. But there were a few who were solid, it wasn't impossible.

"So when's the Big Wasabi gonna release you from your duties?" he asked.

"I talked to my guy in Washington last week, I'm meeting with their transition specialist, he'll be here tomorrow at Weston's office. I sign all the paperwork, exit interview, then in six weeks, if you sign off, I'm finished, hasta la vista. Course I'm leaving the door open for contracts in the future, and Tank can still lead a team if he chooses." Francisco looked a little shocked.

"I didn't know it would be so soon. Ric, are you ready for this? I mean, this is a life changer, it's like retirement. You got to have something to keep you active, engaged, on your toes or you'll be like one of those guys who's getting a gold watch one day, then drops dead the following week. You need something to elevate your blood pressure once in a while."

I just nodded at him and smiled to myself, I have all the excitement I care to handle. Her name is Stephanie Plum.

"Alright then," he picked up his bible, "let's start where we left off last time."

Oooooooooooooooo

Charles Magnussen was the "C" in C and G Construction, the company that remodeled Val and Albert's house. He was a tall Dane in his late-fifties, a retired Marine who looked you in the eye and accepted jobs with a handshake. His company had also done the remodel on the Heywood building. His workers were skilled, they worked fast, and nobody stood around. I pulled up to his office on Hamilton and grabbed my file.

"Look what the cat drug in," said Charles. He called over his shoulder to his secretary, "Sheila, tell Bill we might need a translator, I don't speak ARMY."

The woman just rolled her eyes, ignoring his antics, and continued her typing. I shook his hand and smiled,

"You know what they say, U. S. ARMY – Uncle Sam Aint Ruined Me Yet."

"Heh, I heard it was 'Uncle Sam Aint _Released_ Me Yet.'"

"That too," I conceded.

He motioned to his office and I followed.

"You brought the proposals we talked about?" he asked, pointing to the file I held. I handed the file to him and he set it on his desk,

"Have a seat." He put on some reading glasses and started scanning the papers.

"Looks good, um hum, looks good," He took off the glasses and leveled his eyes at me.

"You know, we had a long-standing contract with Mullendore, and it was fine until he went belly up and left us high and dry."

"Should have called me." I said. Mullendore was now the head of the TSA at the Newark airport, and an official pain in my ass. I didn't mind showing his former clients how a real security firm operates.

"Yeah, well, that was about the time the housing marked went into free-fall and I was doing my best to keep everyone on the payroll."

"Things are better now?" I asked.

"It was real tight for a while, and after the smoke cleared, new constructions was dead in the water, but we were able to go into neighborhoods and buy foreclosures, sometimes a block at a time, like Albert and Val's house. We got some federal and state money to stabilize those struggling neighborhoods. We'd just gut the structures and start over with the wiring, plumbing, everything. And now the prices are on the rise and I've diversified my business, it's all good."

"So Mullendore Security, how was their response time?" I questioned.

He shifted in his seat, "after we close on a house, I don't follow-up on the security, since it is a contract between the homeowner and the security firm. But maybe I should have," he looked a little uncomfortable, "because several of the houses we built and remodeled with Mullendore's systems have been burglarized."

We finished our meeting and Charles walked me to the door.

"Thanks for stopping by, Ric, looks like we're gonna be doing business together. I'm gonna send a contract for you to look over, it will be on your desk by Tuesday."

We shook hands and I walked out.

I hadn't given much thought to the robberies but Francisco and Charles had both mentioned them. Trenton Police Department was supposed to be handling the case. Carl had been keeping me up-to-date but the truth was, our number of residential clients had increased substantially since the news of the robberies hit the paper. Also, I was busy trying to solve this porn case for Stephanie. But there was an inkling in the back of my head that I should address the robbery issue.

I picked up my phone, scrolled through the contacts and dialed."

"Costanza," came the gruff voice, I could hear glasses clinking, a jukebox, and muffled voices in the background, "talk fast," he said, with his mouth full, "I'm busy."

"I have a lead on the robbery case, but I need something in return."

He cupped his hand over the phone and the background noise ceased, "you have my full attention."

"Check out Mullendore Security and any link between them and the robberies," I started to tell him what I wanted but he cut in,

"Oh shit, that dumb-fuck, he needs to get a clue." I heard Carl say.

"What, Bernie put anchovies on your pizza?" I asked.

"No, that idiot Morelli, he just sat down with Stephanie Plum, and it don't look friendly." I got a stab in my gut and I slowed my car. I pulled over and sent a text to Lester to be on alert.

"What's Morelli doing?" I asked.

"His mind aint right. He got hammered last night after rearranging Olmney's face," said Carl.

"Olmney." I had heard the rumor. "So Joe's pissed about Olmney and the brunette?" I asked.

"That's what everybody thinks," said Carl, "but Joe don't give a shit about Angelia Collingsworth, he was pissed cause Olmney made some remarks about Stephanie and her 'assets,' Joe still thinks he has a shot."

"Is Morelli leaving yet?" I asked.

"Nope, but she's letting him have it, aww fuck, here comes the hand gestures." Said Carl chuckling. "Morelli's sinking into the seat." Good, I thought, I did a mental inventory of her purse, she has a loaded .38, a charged stun gun, and full can of Sure Guard I'd snuck in when she wasn't looking. I heard Carl take a big sip of soda.

"She's getting up from the booth, I think she's gonna leave. I'll run that check on Mullendore, anything else?"

"We can talk later," I told him, "right now, just go check on our girl."

Ooooooooooooooooo

I drove through Security Federal and made a bank deposit, then I drove to Heywood and lingered in the parking garage. The black Tahoe pulled in beside me. I got out of my car and waited for Stephanie. She looked a little subdued and she seemed a little mad. We walked toward the elevator,

"Everything O.K.?" I asked

"Yeah, fine, you?"

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Funny," she stopped dead in her tracks and pierced me with her eyes, "I was thinking of asking you the same question. Is there something you want to tell me Ranger?" there was an icy edge to her voice.

"Like what?" I asked.

She mumbled something about 'military intelligence,' and it being a misnomer and how I needed to be more aware of my surroundings.

What had happened to the woman I woke up holding at five a.m. this morning?

**Stephanie's Point of View**

All these men need to get a clue. I didn't fall off the turnip truck this morning. He's not the only one with skills. Joe doesn't think I know he was jilted, ambushing me at Pino's, acting like he dumped Morticia Addams for me, paleeeze! And this fool here, Ranger, thinks I don't know he's hiding something. They're not the only ones with skills, I graduated magna cum laude after eighteen years at the Helen Plum School of Snooping and Gossip-Grubbing, versus six weeks they spent at Fort Dix-in-your-hand. "Huh," he has info and I want it.

The elevator stopped on five and we both got out, Ranger turned to me, "conference room in thirty minutes." I rolled my eyes and went to my cubicle to finish up a search and answere my e-mails. I waved at Cal and said hello to some of the guys before settling in to my chair. I saw Les come in. He looked tire, exhausted really. I hadn't noticed earlier when I watched him on the small monitor in Vinnie's office. He had dark circles under his eyes and what looked like claw marks and a hickey on his neck.

I sat typing on my computer, pretending not to be overly interested.

"So how was your night with the Queen of the Damned?" He gave me a wary look and sighed, "It was mission accomplished, that's what it was, nothing more." Oh, that told me there _was_ more.

"Anything interesting, ya know, Joyce do anything out of the ordinary, anybody get handsey?"

"Steph, come on, you know Ranger would swallow his Army-issued cyanide pill before he'd screw Joyce." Lester raised his eyebrow, "If I didn't know better, Beautiful, I'd say you're jealous."

I didn't answer and looked away before he did. "That's it," he chuckled, "you're jealous."

I focused my attention to the computer screen, typing away frantically. I felt my face turning red and I needed to go on the offensive.

"O.K., I'll cut right to it," the direct approach, "I was in the Bond's office this morning and heard you and Ranger talking." I looked up from my screen.

Lester's face fell and he pursed his lips closed.

"You were eavesdropping on us, Beautiful, that's just…"

"Sneaky, I know," I nodded, "now give it up Les."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I was gonna have to take another approach.

"Fine, but I know you were the one who put the inflatable sex doll in Ranger's Porsche when it was parked at Sonny's," he looked a little surprised.

"So what, he'd been grouchy and needed some 'fantastic plastic' action," he dismissed. I toggled through the windows on my computer and typed some more.

I cleared my throat and sat higher in my chair, "the day of the Army Navy football game, you stole Bill the Goat and he mysteriously turned up in Ranger's office."

Les laughed, "that was a good one, _but you have no proof_," he sang. He was right, I didn't have proof, I watched all the security tapes.

Time to bring out the big guns, "you made Ranger a fake profile on the 'Big, Black, and Beautiful' website, and posted that 'Ranger Manoso is seeking local women for walks in the park, hot tubs, and sensual massages.'" Les thought he was in the clear, "wasn't me," he started to shake his head and smile, but I turned my monitor toward him. There, on the screen, logged into the Rangeman server as Lester Santos, was a profile complete with Ranger's headshot ready to post on the dating site. Ranger's personal cell phone number and the Heywood address, Suite 700, were in the contact information.

"Fuck me," said Les, "that is brilliantly evil. I'm not sure whether to 'shoot you or salute you.'"

"Just cough up the info, Les."

"No, Ranger would kill me."

"Ohhh," I gasped, "so there _is_ something."

See, trained special ops guys weren't the only ones who could conduct an interrogation. They hadn't had Helen Plum as a mother. I knew all the nasty tricks to get to the heart of the matter. If that didn't work, I'd water board him with Budweiser.

"Shit Stephanie, I've already been accosted by one crazy Italian woman with big curly hair, please, show some mercy."

"My hair is not big, it's just bouncy." I said, taming my locks behind my ear.

He looked at his watch, "after the meeting, Beautiful."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

We all filed into the conference room. Tank took the floor.

"As some of you have heard, Lester had a very _hard_ mission last night." For some reason this drew chuckles from the men in the room.

"Thanks to the _undercover_ work of Santos, we are closer to shutting down Stephanie's Porn site." This got some applause, and hoots from the men in the back. Tank smiled as Lester glared at him.

"Hector's been up all night working with Silvio in Miami. Here is what we know. Everything we suspected at the last meeting was confirmed. But this website is just a small cog in a huge internet fraud operation. The website, and all of the content, was created here in Trenton. Some guy, goes by the screen name Meet My Member, we are still working to uncover his true identity. He finds videos that get lots of hits on YouTube then builds websites around them. His goal is to build sites people are interested in to gets as many hits as possible. Bottom line for him is money, although he seems to have some 'dark' interests of the young female type. The websites, like Stephanie's, are sold and hosted on a web server in Costa Rica, where they are used to troll and steal passwords, Trojan horses, every kind of internet fraud out there, it's estimated this group of websites has defrauded Americans out of about two-hundred-fifty million dollars. This is the mother ship and the administrator goes by the name TrollMaster.

"Why Costa Rica?" I asked.

Ranger stood up and took the floor, "Because they have almost no internet fraud enforcement, and they don't cooperate with the FBI."

I thought about everything I had just learned, "So, does this mean anyone who has paid for the site, and has it on their computer is in danger of getting an internet virus, and having their bank account wiped out?"

Ranger smiled, "most definitely," a silver lining, I thought.

Sal began to cough and got up for a drink of water. Vince excused himself and left in a hurry. Ranger's eyes followed him out of the room.

Ranger continued, "I have been on the phone this morning talking to the FBI at the New Jersey field office. The Securities and Exchange Commission in Washington wants to contracted with us to locate the servers and physically dismantle and shut them down. Show of hands, who want to go to Costa Rica?

The meeting adjourned and I pulled Lester out of the conference room, into Tank's office.

I closed the door behind us.

"Alright Les, time's up, or do you want to explain to Ranger tomorrow when someone named LaFonda keeps calling for him?"

Lester got very still and quiet. He looked at me and he looked concerned.

"Beautiful, in our line of work we find out all kinds of secrets. I could make a fortune dealing in secrets and retire a very rich man, of course, I'd have to leave the country. But believe me when I tell you, sometimes you don't want to know."

"But there's something, right? At least confirm that much for me, Les."

"Yes," he sighed, "there is something, but it's not gonna change your life, you can live without knowing, and if you want to see the tape, you're gonna have to ask Ranger."

"Ask me what?" came a voice as Ranger opened the door and walked in. We both jumped and my heart stuttered. He gave Lester a stern stare and turned to me with neutral eyes.

"What do you need to ask me, Babe?"

I cleared my throat and looked him in the eyes, I let out a long sigh, "what are you not telling me about last night?"

Lester excused himself and took two steps to leave. Ranger turned to him and said, "I'll be talking to you later."

I turned to Ranger, "Don't blame Les, I weaseled it out of him, he was no match for my Jedi mind control."

"Stephanie," he began, "just trust me when I tell you, this isn't anything you need to hear." "I do trust you." I told him. And I did, I trusted Ranger, but in the back of my mind I couldn't stop thinking about Joe Morelli, and how I used to think _he_ was trustworthy, and all the crap he had put me through. and how he still had the nerve to grab my arm at Pino's and tell me how much he had loved me. Screw that! Trust, trust but verify!

I just stood there, looking at Ranger, waiting. We stood locked eye to eye for a few moments, then he reached into his pocket and brought out a little flash drive. Ranger gently took my right wrist and brought my hand up; he dropped the little USB drive in my palm and closed my fingers around it.

"You can use my office, or go up to seven, I'll be in the control room. Just remember Babe, don't shoot the messenger; this in one message I don't want to deliver."

I took the little plastic and metal rectangle and walked to the elevator.

I knew Ranger and Joyce never had sex. Lula thought it was a possibility, but then, Lula _always_ thought sex was a possibility. I thought Les was right, Ranger would swallow his army-issued cyanide pill before he would have sex with Joyce, or better, he'd just shoot her. I couldn't really be upset with Ranger if he'd cozied up to Joyce a little, after all, it was all for my benefit. In my book, he was making quite a sacrifice. I thought about all the times I'd been fondled, practically molested by skips in front of Ranger. Not once did he question my motives, we knew it was a job, and at the end of the day I went home, and the skips went to jail. Sometimes I went home and Ranger followed me, or he'd sneak into my apartment in the middle of the night. Come to think of it, after my most challenging distractions he usually showed up in short order with take-out and he would asked if I needed help in my shower.

Ooooooooooooooooo

I fobbed myself into Ranger's apartment. The moment I stepped in, the barometric pressure changed. The dark, earthy colors, the faint hint of musky sandalwood and leather, the indirect muted lighting. I set my purse on the console table in the entry hall and walked into the spare bedroom. Of course, Ranger would never need a second bedroom, so he had a nice big mahogany L-shaped desk with a long credenza on the back wall, topped to the ceiling with bookshelves. Among the shelves he has a few keepsakes, empty artillery shells made into bookends, a memorial plaque of the twin towers with digital clock that counted up the years, months, and days since there had been a foreign attack on U. S. soil, bronze dog tags belonging to some of his fallen comrades, asian lacquered boxes and an antique Mahjong set inlaid with ivory. The camel-colored walls were decorated with army photos, some deep red and green Asian landscapes in gold bamboo frames.

I sunk down into his black leather desk chair and plugged the USB into his laptop. I hoped I was doing the right thing, then I saw Joyce on the screen, her eyes were slits, like when you're driving toward the sun, and she seemed to be having a hard time focusing. Her hair looked a little crazy and she was moving like a bobble-head in slow motion. She was laying back in a white overstuffed recliner in her living room. I recognized the gaudy, overdone Italian styled fixtures. Big fake flower bouquets with maroon red and gold, thick brocade fabrics mixed with a fake cream fur rug and faux cream leather furniture. She had a blanket thrown over her, but I could see she was still fully clothed, thank God. The image was sharp and in the corner of the mirror on the wall behind her, I could see a reversed reflection of Ranger.

It was hard to tell, but Ranger looked to be sitting across from her on a leopard print occasional chair and Lester must have been operating the camera.

Ranger talked with her in a very casual manner, using his normal, everyday, I'm-at-work, get-it-done voice. Short, regulated tone, little inflection, no-nonsense. He was meticulously efficient, he read from no cards, but it flowed as if scripted. They went through all the questions we had covered in the meeting earlier, no surprises there. Joyce seemed relaxed and drunk, but she was quite talkative. Her words came slowly and were drawn out, but her mind was tracking.

She answered all of his questions about the on-line arrangement with the mystery web master, and the money situation. Then he asked a few questions about her legal dealings and her ex-husbands. She revealed some very damning information that could lock her up for a long time. Bad stuff that would come if handy if Joyce remembered anything about this evening and cried foul, but I didn't think it was the info I was after.

Ranger appeared satisfied with the interview and I could see him rise from the chair. He and Lester were starting to clean up a bit, some drinking glasses were removed. Ranger returned and now I could see him in the camera view. He touched a glass of water to Joyce's hand and set it on the end-table.

"Here's drink this." Joyce's eyes were getting heavier and she looked like she might fall asleep but then she looked up at Ranger,

"I know why Plum likes you." My eyes popped open and I gasped, what was she going to say.

Ranger's stone face faltered a bit when he heard her mention me.

"What about Stephanie?"

"You're hot, but that's not what she's looking for."

"What then?" he asked.

"You're nothing like Dickie." she said, staring over his shoulder into an old memory.

"Tell me more," said Ranger, he backed up and returned to his chair.

"I was screwing Dickie way before they started dating. I was married to Walter then, just couldn't agree on our divorce." Aww, crud, I winced and closed my eyes afraid of what else was coming. This was an unverified suspicion of mine, that she and Dickie had been doing the nasty way before I caught them, and now that Joyce had admitted it, I couldn't decide if I was angry, or worse, embarrassed that Ranger knew my whole humiliating marriage was built on a foundation of camel dung.

Ranger spoke, "Why did Dickie date Stephanie, if he had you?"

"Dickie said his parents were pressuring him to find a nice girl, settle down, have some kids, or he wouldn't make partner." True, I thought. No news there.

"A marriage of convenience?" asked Ranger.

"Yes, for him, it was arranged, Mrs. Orr and Mrs. Plum, they cooked it up." Now I sat upright in my seat. Far as I knew my mother had never met Mrs. Orr until our engagement party, so what did she mean by 'cooked it up?"

"Steph, well, she's the perfect one, she's the pretty, nice, good person. Evvvverybody alllllways looooved Steeeeephanie," Joyce drew out. "And Dickie said she was what his image needed so he could make partner at that snot-nosed law firm."

Ranger studied her more closely, "did you try to break it off with him after he and Stephanie got engaged?"

"I told him I was done, but he whined to me cause she wouldn't do the back door stuff he liked, said she was a real tight ass in the bedroom, only liked the missionary style, and he, well, his tastes were more in line with Vinnie's."

"Awww, no," I moaned, "If she says Dickie copulated with farm animals, I am hitch-hiking to Albuquerque.

"Three days before their wedding, her sister came home from California, a bunch of them went out to dinner and Dickie was left alone, so I went to see him and Helen Plum stopped by with some wedding shit, I don't remember why she was there, but she walked in on us, Dickie's pants around his ankles," said Joyce.

My heart thumped in my chest and my knees turned to twizzlers. "No! Joyce, you're a god-damned liar!" I yelled. I felt like my heart was sinking in quicksand. I wanted to deny it, and to just blame that woman on the screen in front of me. There's no way my mother could have known about Dickie. All the shame and humiliation that I could have been spared. She would have told me.

"Mrs. Plum?" I heard Ranger ask Joyce. "Are you sure she knew what you were doing?"

"Yeah," said Joyce.

"Stephanie's Mother?" he asked again.

"Yes." Joyce nodded affirmatively.

I could see Ranger in the mirror, he put his hand over his mouth and wiped his jaw. He gave Joyce a grave look.

"What happened after that?"

"I thought Stephanie would call off the wedding, but she didn't. And after they were married and the weeks went by, I realized lots of people knew about me and Dickie, and I couldn't figure how all these people who claimed they loved her soooooo much, some of her best friends, didn't tell her about Dickie. They were all gonna stand around while Dickie smiled in her face and got her knocked-up with some kids. Then I found out he was cheating with a few more women."

"So you were jealous, of these other women," said Ranger. Joyce did the bobble-head again and held up a shaky finger.

"No, no, I wasn't jealous over Dickie, he wasn't really that great in the sack," my eyes were pooling with tears, but I had to laugh that Joyce and I had agreed on something.

"I felt sorry for Stephanie, It was like all her friends were just waiting to see what would happen when she found out. And who was I to tell her. So I did what I could. I waited till I knew she was gonna be home and I got Dickie drunk and confused and fucked him in their dining room for the whole neighborhood to see so there could be noooo mistake about what happened."

Joyce shook her head,

"Hell my car was parked in front of her house. She finally left that bastard. And that fucking Joe Morelli, he's a piece of shit too, and nobody tells her these things."

"Word is, Morelli's available," said Ranger.

"He's never gonna stop chasing her. He had a ticket for that cruise, he was gonna surprise her, but he cancelled when they yanked her passport."

"How do you know this?"

"Margie Slater, works in Personnel at TPD."

Joyce's eyes were getting heavier and she nodded a few times before her head rolled back onto the headrest.


	17. Chapter 17

Yikes! I have stepped in it! Please cut me slack, this is my second story, and my first was only four chapters. I did what I said I wouldn't do – cliché of bad Helen. I will try to steer clear on the stereotypes from here on, except for the stereotype of hot, sexy Ranger.

**These are not my characters, they do not make me money, but they have been known to drive some people crazy.**

**Stephanie's Point of View**

The video ended and I just sat there staring at the frozen image of a drugged out Joyce. I removed the USB and laid it next to the computer. My mind was racing, searching for meaning. Dickie had been screwing Joyce pre and post engagement. My mother had known Dickie was a philandering man-whore but she choose to keep that secret to herself. This was a little more information than I wanted to handle. My internal Rolodex began to scroll, Valerie, Carl, Mary Lou, what about Eddie, did they all know? I'd divorced Dickie nearly seven years ago, but even back then, was I some sort of sick entertainment, some game of chance, was Vegas laying odds on when I'd crack? A wave of paranoia swept over me and my reality as I knew it seemed to warp. My stomach was nauseous. My state of Zen had all but vanished and I was feeling very alone.

I thought about my mother on the cruise, living it up while I was grounded in Trenton; she was probably gleefully imagining me and Joe, eating her lemon bars, looking at fabric swatches and comparing china patterns. I was getting a headache and I was suddenly very tired. It was a little to much for me to think about, I stood up and went to Ranger's kitchen and started looking through cabinets, "low-salt, sugar-free, fat-free, added fiber, made with canola, yuck!" I climbed onto his granite counter top and my hair grazed the ceiling. I reached over the molding atop the cherry wood cabinets and felt around. I'd almost given up when my hand brushed plastic and I heard a familiar crinkle. One unopened Tastykake, no such thing as an expiration date when you have the half-life of uranium.

I stood on the counter and tore open the wrapper and it floated to the floor and I closed my eyes and took a bite. The sweet goodness started to melt into my tongue. I pressed the butterscotch icing up to the roof of my mouth and I wanted to be sixteen again, before the Tasty Pastry, before Dickie Orr, before Joyce Barnhardt and Joe Morelli. I was like Alice in Wonderland, on some psychedelic adventure and I just wanted to get back to the beginning, before the rabbit hole. I stuffed another bite in my mouth and thought how funny it was that Alice was always finding pastries with little notes that said "eat me." I smiled to myself, "eat me," I moaned.

"Babe?" came a voice from below.

My eyes popped open, I lost my balance and toppled onto Ranger, pinning him on the kitchen floor.

"Ouch, you have a hard head," I said rubbing my temple where it had bumped into his. He sat me upright and held my chin in his hand, turning my head to look at the bump.

He opened he freezer and took out some ice and wrapped it in a kitchen towel.

I held the pack in my left hand and he took my right arm and helped me to my feet.

For a moment I had forgotten about "that woman" but reality returned and I got that sinking feeling in my core again.

"You O.K.?" He must think I'm the stupidest woman in Trenton; someone not worthy of true friendship. I had to make my escape. I didn't want to talk about this revelation or anything Joyce. I needed some air and time to think. I didn't want Ranger to try to solve my problem. I looked at him and let out a long sigh.

"I should get downstairs, lots of searches to do," I said to Ranger. He turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Stephanie, this, in no way changes who you are," he told me.

"Yeah, but it might change who I _will be_."

"Sometimes changes are good. Everybody needs a change now and then, even me."

"Yeah, well, this kinda stuff doesn't happen to you," I said.

He squeezed my shoulders, propelled me toward the dining room table and pulled out a chair. "I'm about to tell you something I've never told anyone else." I furrowed my brow and braced myself. Sometimes people make this statement for dramatic effect, but this was Ranger, his secrets had secrets, so if he said no one else, he meant it. I brought the icepack down to my lap and looked him in the eye.

"After I finished Ranger School," he said, "I did my first couple of missions and really dug into my work. Rachael and I were over and I didn't have a reason to come back to Newark. My mother was very upset about that. Then into my second year, she wrote to me to say my Uncle Ricky was ill and demanded I come home for Thanksgiving." As Ranger talked he kept glancing between my eyes and the table top, was this was hard for him, I wondered. "My Uncle's liver was failing and doctors suggested a blood transfusion, so different family members went to the hospital and volunteered to give blood. My dad and I went together. I remember, he was beside himself, they were close growing up, first generation Cuban Americans living in the Mt. Prospect neighborhood of Newark." I could see Ranger envisioning the men in his mind,

"They did everything together. So we spent lots of time in the hospital with Uncle Rickie. But I had been doing Special Ops work, not just warfare, but tracking, investigating, surveillance, and, like _you,_ I'm curious." He looked at me and gave a knowing smile.

"So when I'm in his hospital room I check out his belongings, I look through files and all the doctor's notes, and I start to see a picture emerge in my mind. My fourth-grade photo was tucked away in the back of his wallet, I was named after him, and my mother steered me to that hospital every moment she could. I'd had some basic medical training, so when I looked through his medical file, a little red flag went up in my brain."  
"Your Bat radar was going off," I offered.

"Something like that," he chuckled. "Alright smarty pants, what do you think I'm going to say?"

I was pretty sure I knew where he was going with this story, but I'd had enough drama for one day, so gasped loudly, "Ahhhh, Darth Vadar is your father, come to think of it, you do dress alike, minus the cape."

He glared at me with an incredulous look, "Stephanie, I'm being serious."

"Sorry, tell me what happened?" I said softly.

He continued his story, "I took his hairbrush and sent it to a lab in New York."

"I'm listening," I said, squeezing his hand gently.

"Test came back 99.7 percent positive, the man I had grown up calling "uncle," he was my biological father."

I looked at Ranger in the eyes,

"So, did your parent know the truth, or had you mother kept if from him?" I asked, thinking of all the possible scenarios.

"Don't know," he said, as a matter of fact.

"Don't know?" I repeated, "what did your mother have to say for herself?"

"Nothing, I never brought it up."

I long sigh hissed out of my lungs.

"So are you trying to tell me to leave this alone, not confront _that woman_?"

"I'm simply saying, Stephanie, as your friend, to think carefully about what you want."

"And what am I supposed to do about the other people Joyce mentioned, all my 'friends" who knew about Dickie's habits?"

"You have to understand, Babe, what Joyce said on that tape is what she believes to be true. Sodium pentathol only reveals the truth as she sees it. So when she says 'all your friends' knew, that could mean two people or ten people, and they may have just suspected, or heard gossip, but that doesn't mean they knew for certain. Are you gonna tell Lucille Plum that Vinnie spent his lunch hour at the Petting Zoo last Thursday?"

"Hmm," I harrumphed.

"Just trying to give a little perspective here."

I stood up and stretched my arms above my head, then I gave Ranger an uncharacteristic hug. I wanted to let him know I appreciated him for putting his trust in me, but the thought of saying something so mushy and personal to Ranger was uncomfortable, so I settled for the hug. He started to hug me back but my urge to flee was stronger than my unchecked hormones. I hastily excused myself and went into his bathroom and looked at my hair. I tried wetting it with a little water and smoothed it down a bit. I felt self-conscious about my movements and everything about me seemed awkward. The conversation we'd just had, where I sit and listen and Ranger talks, was very foreign to me and I didn't know how to act. I didn't return to his kitchen to say goodbye, I was too chicken. I just grabbed my bag off the console and headed out the door, calling out "Later!" over my shoulder. I took the elevator straight to the parking garage and headed for Val's house.

I pulled the Tahoe into the parking stall and before I knew it, I was in Val's house in a cleaning frenzy. I grabbed the big barrel next to the back door and rolled it to the center of the kitchen. I started with the refrigerator, throwing out all the remnants of the leftovers we had been eating this week. I tossed the leftover mostaccioli, the chicken parm, the rigatoni. Next, I opened the freezer and found the remaining four trays of casseroles. I ripped off the aluminum foil and crumpled the hand-written notes "that woman" had attached to the plastic wrap. I opened the junk drawer and pulled out a claw hammer. I used the pointy end to pry the frozen cubes out of the pans and tossed them in the trash. After about twenty minutes, I had all the remnants of Helen Plum discarded in the large, black receptacle and the pans loaded in the dishwasher. I added soap, started the dishwasher cycle and rolled the garbage can out the back door and to the curb.

I grabbed my keys, walked past the Tahoe and jumped into my Nissan Altima and started driving. I drove through McDonald's and got the Big Mac combo with super-sized fries, then I drove through Cluck-in-a-Bucket for a number seven extra-ckucky with cheesy potatoes. I ate as I drove aimlessly around the streets of Trenton, sipping my soda, no destination in particular. It was a little after five when pulled over to the curb and checked my messages. I looked up and realized I was sitting outside of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I stepped out of my car and chirped the locks.

I opened the heavy wood-paneled door. I stepped into the foyer and was enveloped by the aroma of candle-wax, furniture polish and frankinsense. I opened the second set of door and walked through. The only lights were the votives flickering under the statues flanking each side of the altar, and the sun that filtered through the heavily leaded stained glass windows. The angle of the late afternoon rays struck some of the red and yellow colored panes causing them to glow like fire. I walked slowly up the side aisle and knelt down in a pew across from the confessionals. The church was empty, except for one ancient gentleman rows away on the other side of the church, kneeling before the Eucharist in perpetual adoration.

I dropped my head and rested it on my closed hands. How had this happened to me, I wondered. The words of Joyce Barnhardt kept coming back to me. I'd spent the last seven years tying to make a life after Dickie Orr, and while my life hadn't been perfect, it hummed along with just a few minor aggravations. Now I had opened Pandora's box and there was no going back.

The side exit door creaked open and when I looked up the flood of daylight blinded me a bit. The door closed and I recognized the dark-haired figure dressed in black. Walking across the transept was the kind young priest who I'd confessed to on Sunday. He was wearing a black button-up shirt with the white collar, and straight-front black slacks with black polished leather shoes. When he got to the outer aisle, he saw me and stopped.

"Hola, Senorita, the Sisters of Mercy are meeting in the Rectory this evening."

"No," I said, "I just came in to sit." His eyes studied me for a moment then he continued up the aisle. He carried a long black cassock on a hanger, he crossed himself when he reached the altar then disappeared into the sacristy. I closed my eyes again and in a moment I heard some movement on the altar. I peeked up. The man in black was replacing the candles that aligned the altar table. He retreated into the sacristy again and emerged holding a golden chalice with the domed lid adorned with a cross. He carried the vessel across to the tabernacle, nodded to the praying man, and opened the glass door with a little key. He placed the vessel in the little gold box, knelt, and made the sign of the cross. I thought he looked young but his face was mature, concentrated.

I rose from the kneeler and sat back in the pew and looked around. I studied the statuary and my eyes fell on the iconic statue of Our Lady in front of me. She was dressed in a flowing crimson robe that billowed around her feet and her head and shoulders were covered by a brilliant blue cloak studded with gold stars. Golden rays of a large fiery halo extended out around her entire body. She had a serene, peaceful look on her face as she gazed down at me, hands folded in prayer.

I heard the priest walking among the pews, he was weaving back and forth, straightening the hymnals and missalettes. I felt his presence behind me, then he cleared his throat,

"That statue came from Italy, she is actually carved out of wood, not the new fiberglass you see a lot of now."

"Where is Jesus?" I asked.

"The belt she wears is symbolic of pregnancy, I think that's why she appears so calm, she doesn't have children yet, she has no idea what's about to happen," he chuckled.

I was a little taken off guard, I think the padre was making a joke.

I studied the man before me. I could see his age a little now, around the eyes, but he was kind and handsome and I wondered how that whole 'life of celibacy' thing was working out for him. He extended his hand, "I'm Father Ramos."

"Stephanie, Stephanie Plum."

"Nice to meet you Stephanie, do you live around here?"

"No," I was cautious, "I didn't really want him figuring out who I was, "but sometimes I have to come down this way for work and your stained glass windows are beautiful." I hoped he would not ask what I did for work, I couldn't lie to a priest, and if I said "bounty hunter," he might remember me from my confession. I turned and looked back at the statue.

"I was just wondering what that was like," I said, "having _her_ for a mother."

"Well, Jesus wasn't the only human who was perfect, you know. That is why we say 'Ava Maria Purisima, Sin pecado concebida,'"

"Hail Mary purest, conceived without sin." I translated, and he nodded.

"She was the only other person, the only mother to walk the earth in a perfect state of grace."

"Well, I should be going, I have to pick up my nieces, I'm watching them for my sister since she's out of town. It was really nice to meet you father."

He looked at me curiously and a big smile spread on his face, "Trust me when I say the pleasure was all mine, Stephanie." He sandwiched my hand in his and shook it again, his warmth radiating into my skin, and I got the feeling he was someone who could be trusted, and in that moment I felt at peace.

I jumped into my car, drove East on Hamilton and made two left turns. I was headed to Gloria Jean Juniak's house. They lived on the border between the Burg and Hamilton township in a stand-alone colonial with a double lot. Everyone thought they would move to the Historic Berkley Square neighborhood after Joe's election, but he and Gloria Jean had both grown up in the Burg, and Joe had made preserving and stabilizing the cities oldest neighborhoods part of his campaign platform. I pulled up and cut the engine and I tried to assemble myself. I was about to walk into normal Bergville. I was hoping it wasn't obvious I had just been plummeted by an emotional hurricane. I pulled down the visor and adjusted my makeup.

The Juniak home was tastefully furnished in Ethan Allen early American with creams and teals and dark wood against medium hardwood floors, but it wasn't ostentatious and the it had a cozy lived-in feel.

"Come in, come in," said Gloria Jean, "they had a great time together, and be prepared, because they're probably gonna hit you up for an overnight, maybe sometime this weekend, Sunday, since Monday is a holiday and all?"

"Oh, sounds great. Val gets back Saturday, but I don't think she would mind, let's just plan on it, but don't tell them yet." Geeze, there was a lot of planning with this parenting, and I was thinking how I would be happy when Saturday arrived and I could reclaim my own life, then slink into a hole somewhere.

"Do you have big plans for the holiday weekend Steph?"

"Oh, I'll probably try to do some Bonds recovery, it seems holidays are a good time to find people, they seem to spend more time hanging out with their families, how about you and Joe?" I asked.

"We're not doing much, Joe has a few Memorial Day events to attend. But we will definitely be around. The parade should be pretty good, we're riding in a convertible toward the end, Joe likes to be boring and just sit there, says it's more dignified, but I've got fifty pounds of candy stashed away and I'm gonna throw it." Her pale blue eyes twinkled and she gave a sneaky little grin. That's why I liked Gloria Jean, she may be the Mayor's wife, but she's still a Burg girl at heart, and although she was my cousin-in-law, I didn't think she was nice to me out of some familial obligation, I thought we could probably be friends. Although given my track record for explosions and gray legal affairs, my chances of being seen out with her publically were probably better in a _non-election_ year.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We thanked the Juniaks and said goodbye. Angie groaned when she walked out of the door and saw my Christmas tree car waiting for us. She was at that tender age when girls worked hard to avoid embarrassment, especially in front of their friends. I had never really gone through that stage as a kid. For some reason, I was always fascinated by the crazy stuff that happened in and out of our family. I remember, I used to be in awe of how much energy Val put into impressing people she barely knew, and the lengths my mother had gone, making sure Val had the right clothes, the right invitations, the right group of friends. But I also witnessed many nights of tears and tirades behind the scenes, and I decided I wanted no part of it.

Angie and Mary Alice buckled in and we headed toward Grandma's. As I drove, I thought about Val on the cruise, was she still that little girl, on an island in paradise, worried about what clothes to wear so she wouldn't embarrass herself? I'd never really cared what those people thought, in fact, I was pretty certain a few people would not be happy with me when they returned home from the Molnar cruise. A list was starting to form: Grandma's broken hip, Angela's black eye, Betty Anne DeBlasio's bulging pyton, Mrs. Ciak's burglarized curio cabinet. Now any sane person knows I should not be held responsible for these misfortunes, but this is the Burg, and by Burg standards, I will be found guilty by association. There was one person, however, I was certain would come home extremely happy with me - Frank Plum.

Club Med-icare was the hottest ticket in town, and Grandma Mazur was doing everything she could to extend her stay. Not only were the residence pampered and preened on a daily basis, their visitors were treated to meals and movies in the hope that they would choose Life Moments Rehabilitation Hospital when the time came for their heart valve replacements.

This was the daytime rival to a funeral home viewing, but instead of cookies and juice, you could get a double mocha caramel latte and chicken tikka masala, then retreat to the theater and watch Driving Miss Daisy in high-def, on a ninty-six inch plasma screen. All this, and the person you were viewing was still alive! The staff was young and fit, they employed a disproportionate number of hot male nurses and the rehab therapists all wore spandex. It was a dirty old lady's dream.

The girls and I walked through the lobby doors into a bustle of activity. Four young women manned the front desk, offering directions, information, issuing room key cards. Several shoppers perused the gift shop on the left looking for gifts for their infirmed loved ones. A skinny kid wearing a polo and khaki pants pushed a cart of flowers toward the South wing. A group of men and women in black stretchy pants carrying yoga mats walked toward the front entrance. I scanned the large common area around the waterfall; to one side, a young muscular man with a pony tail wore a harness, helping a fit grey-haired woman navigate a rock-climbing wall,

"Cool, shouted Mary Alice, it's like a Spider Man training session."

"Yeah, mind if we go watch, aunt Steffie? Asked Angie."

"After you say hello to Grandma."

On the other side of the large waterfall Grandma was holding court in the little coffee bar. Two of Grandma's friends, who I'd recognized from Stiva's Funeral Home, sat staring at her, wide-eyed, hanging on every word, shaking their heads in disgust. As we approached, Grandma stopped talking and smiled.

"Hey there," she beamed, "this here's my granddaughter Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter extraordinaire and my two Great Grand-daughters, Angela and Mary Alice," she said. She introduced Maybelline Masek and Ida Novan. The girls went over to Grandma and gave her big hugs, then I motioned for them to go watch the rock climbers.

"So you're the one Edna always tells us about," said Maybelline, "didn't you bing in wild Bill Earling a time or two?"

Ida spoke up, "and you caught that good for nothing, Uncle Mo, always knew there was something wrong with him, he was just too good, if ya know what I mean." The women looked at each other and nodded their approval. Grandma had been in the middle of discussing Big Jim when the girls and I walked over.

Yesterday, when Ranger was with me, we'd gotten a glance at Big Jim Marasco. I had been expecting someone tall and dashing who looked like Errol Flynn, what I saw was someone short and stubby who looked like Elmer Fudd. "That's Big Jim?" I'd asked," pointing to a man who was about five foot two, sitting in the cafe playing cribbage with old man Gruber, and Wanda Kopetski.

"Oh, yeah", said Grandma, I remember she'd had that dangerous gleam in her eye. "I know what you're thinking," she had said, "he don't look too tall, but they don't call him "Big Jim" because he's tall, if ya get my drift." Oh no, please don't say any more in front of Ranger, I remember thinking.

I cringed when I recalled that meeting from the day before, when Grandma told Ranger and me about her plans, "We got our first date tonight, and after dinner he's coming back to my room for a nightcap and I'm gonna find out if he lives up to his nickname. Good thing you came by, cause I was gonna ask you, do you think we would need to put a sock on the doorknob in a place like this?"

My jaw had dropped to the floor and my face had turned red. No doubt Ranger had heard Grandma proclaiming her intentions. But when I looked over, I remember he had a serene blank look on his face as though he had temporary hearing loss, as if he were employing some mental coping technique he'd learned in the military where you train your mind to retreat to its "safe place." Any place would be safer than here, I thought, like a bunker in Afghanistan.

I shook the memory from my head and took a seat at the little cafe table with the three ladies.

"Grandma how was your date last night?"

"Aww, not so great, I was just telling the girls here all about it.

"Now Lyle Turkel, he's a real catch," piped up Ida.

"So gram, what happened, did he have problems, ya know," I grimaced and swallowed hard as I said, "with his performance?"

"Well, after dinner we went back to my room, see, and I told Big Jim that while I may have been around the block a few times, my new hip hasn't seen any action yet. He seemed to like that idea. So one thing lead to another and everything was working, far as I could tell, but I could _barely_ tell cause it turns out his pony baloney was more like a teenie weenie. Apparently he spread the rumor himself, to get him in good with the ladies. He has a son, James Marasco, who moved to Seattle to work for some fancy hi-tech company. Used to call the son "Little Jim," and he was "Big Jim." After his kid left town he just told everybody he was "Big Jim for _other_ reasons."

"Aw Gram, I'm sorry." Maybelline and Ida shook their heads in pity.

"I shouda known, you always have to look at the hands." Said Grandma.

"Or the shoe size," piped up Maybelline, "yeah that's a give away."

Ida added in, "I used to think it was a man's nose, but Buddy Filmore ruined that theory for me."

Oh my God I'm not hearing this, I thought. I looked over at the girls and they were busy talking and watching the rock wall climbers, well out of earshot of our conversation.

"Grandma, you don't really believe that do you I said, shaking my head. "That it's the size of the hands?" Although I knew two men who could back up that theory.

"No, Stephanie, not just the hands, the fingers. There's a study out now from some people in Korea about predicting the size of you Johnson. I guess when you live in Korea you need any advantage you can get; or they just have too much time on their hands and go around measuring penises all day. Hey, I wonder what kinda benefits I could get with a job like that," she pondered, "now that my hips getting better and all."

I would probably be sorry for asking, but the curiosity was killing me, "So what did the study say?"

"It's all about the difference between the ring finger and pointer finger, whadda you call it, the index finger. The closer those two fingers are to being the same, the longer the doinker."

"No kidding?" I said in utter amazement, as I started a mental slide show of hands of every man I knew.

We talked a little bit longer and Grandma asked if we wanted to stay for dinner, but I had a suspicion that even though the food looked good, it was probably void of salt and packed with lots of extra fiber to keep the clientele regular. Although, now that I has chucked all of 'that woman's" casseroles into the dumpster, I was going to have to figure out another plan for meals until Saturday. I pulled the girls away from the sexy rock climber, who's index and ring fingers were very close to being the same length, and loaded into my Altima, headed for the Lotta Food Mart.

ooooooooooooooooooo


	18. Chapter 18

**I do not own these characters or make any money from them. **

Stephanie's Point of View

My diet usually consists of prepared, prepackaged, and until today, pre-owned food. Saying I can figure out how to cook is like saying I can probably figure out the Heimlich. I could do it if someone's life depended on it, but I'd worry about killing them in the process.

If Armageddon comes, though, I will not starve. I can go weeks eating food that never needs to be refrigerated. TaskyKakes, non-dairy creamer, coffee, beef in the shape of a stick, anything in a can, potato chips… And if it comes down to the final battle, I would probably stick around to help Ranger, ya know, do my civic duty, just in case he's the last man standing, and the task falls on us to repopulate the earth.

I sat in the parking lot of the Lotta Food Mart and downloaded the app I'd heard about from Connie – Leftover Rover. This is a cooking app for people who are "culinarily challenged." You typed in a list of leftovers from the refrigerator, and the app came up with easy menus that need just a few extra ingredients.

"Italian sausage, canned tomatoes, bread," listed Angie.

"Peanut butter, Oreos, chocolate chips," added Mary Alice.

I added a few more items I'd seen in Val's frig and cupboards. The girls peered over my shoulder from the back seat. I touched the little "go" button and in a moment some recipes came up with photos.

"Ants on a log, celery, peanut butter, and raisins," I read. Mary Alice nodded her head in approval,

"I've made those with mom before."

"Alright, you can handle those." I continued with the next virtual recipe card,

"BLT Chopped Salad."

"Mmmm," we all said in unison when we saw the picture.

"Tomatoes, bacon, romaine, feta cheese, ranch dressing," I listed.

"Easy," said Angie, "I can do that, mom has some turkey bacon in the freezer, and if we don't mix the dressing, it will keep for tomorrow."

So far, so good. I swiped to the next recipe and began to read,

"Ribollita, Italian Bread Stew. I started reading the description and I recognized the dish. This was one of Uncle Sandor's favorites. Grandma used to make it for him when he came for dinner, it was tasty, and Italian, and looked pretty easy to make.

I hit a few more buttons and the app generated a shopping list. I simply pressed the little X boxes to delete the items we already had. We just needed nine items, which was good because my bank account didn't get an infusion until Friday.

We grabbed a cart and headed for the produce section. I was searching for the celery when I heard a smooth friendly voice,

"Hello Stephanie, what a pleasant surprise." I looked up into the amber eyes of Manuel Vivanco. He had a basket full of unfamiliar produce and he was examining some peppers. I was happy to see my new friend, someone who hadn't known me long enough to betray me yet. He set his basket on the floor and gave me a hug and waved to the girls who were hand-selecting some strawberries. He smelled dark and exotic and his dancer body was strong and toned.

"What are you girls up to this evening?"

I told him my supply chain had run out and I was determined to make some good meals before Val and Albert returned on Saturday. He'd learned a little about my lack of cooking skills the night I drank wine and watched him make the mini chocolate soufflés.

"Are you serious about learning more than just survival cooking, because I was thinking of teaching a class at Westchester Community College, you could be my test student." Intriguing, I thought, free cooking lessons from someone who will make me dessert, can dish on the Manoso clan, and, I'll admit, has a face and body that's 'easy on the eyes,'"

"Are you home tomorrow evening, say six o'clock?" he asked with hopeful grin, " I'll bring over a few basic recipes and some ingredients, we can have another cooking class, it'll be fun, besides, I have something I want to show you."

"Something to show me?" I asked.

"Yes, it's from Carmen Manoso."

He grabbed a few more produce items and stuck them in my cart.

"Here, we'll need these."

"Great, it's a date then, see you tomorrow." He waved 'bye' to the girls and headed for the checkout. What on earth could Carmen Manoso have to show me? I'd met her once, briefly, when Ranger was in the hospital. She'd made it a point to thank me for helping find her niece Julie. I filed that thought away.

The girls picked out a few apples and oranges and our list was down to one item, balsamic vinegar. We were rounding the end-cap of the baking aisle, headed for the condiments, when I noticed Joyce, the tart of Trenton, at the meat counter, yes, ironic. She was picking up steaks and jumbo shrimp and she had that little brat Josie with her. Angie saw her and quickly turned her head and pulled on my arm. I tried careening the cart into the cereal aisle, but I was too late.

"Plum," came the voice, like nails on chalkboard, "I was just thinking about you." "Aww, ff—iddle, what does she want," I said, under my breath. I didn't want to see her. She knew my nasty little secret, and in the back of my mind this gave her some unspoken power over me. Still, she'd never told anyone, and did I really want to know why. The news of my father's wife, committing such a heinous betrayal would have become Burg legend, much like Joe and Louie The Ratchet. Spreading that rumor would have damaged my reputation far greater than anything Joyce had done with Dickie. It must be some evil plot; she's lying in wait for just the right moment, I thought, although seven years does seem like a long time. I tallied up my arsenal, I knew about her dirty divorce dealings, her tax evasion, and some other pretty serious stuff. But I wasn't a snitch. So that made me better than her, didn't it?

Joyce stood at the counter, her boobs oozing out of her black leather bustier, "we're celebrating, just brought in Cosmo Magazino, twenty-five grand, no split." I could always count on Joyce to prove that age-old theory, "nice girls finish last, or in some cases, pregnant."

"Wow, that is something to celebrate," I said, trying to set a good example in front of my nieces by playing nice with the insane crazy person who, on most days, is trying to ruin my life.

"Where'd you get him?" I asked. I noticed Josie was giving Angie the evil eye, but Angie just looked around the store with a slight smile on her face, not making eye contact with the little monster. I noticed she had inserted herself between Josie and Mary Alice, who was comparing the back of the Cocoa Krispies and the Captain Crunch boxes to see which had the better prize.

"Newark Airport," she smiled, knowing this was the place that ended my free vacation in paradise.

"Yeah, it was real easy," bragged Joyce, "once he cleared security, all I had to do was cut to the front of the line and flash my badge at the TSA. Guy got on his little walkie-talkie, and they delivered Magazino to me in handcuffs, easy money."

Hmm, easy money, that's what I thought I was getting two weeks ago when I agreed to drive to the Newark airport to help Vinnie: twelve-thousand-five-hundred dollars of easy money. But I had to pay the government ten thousand in fines, it cost me five hundred to get my car out of the impound lot, which left me just enough for rent and utilities and a trip to the dentist because I chipped my tooth in the fall.

Lorraine Catazano rolled by and caught Joyce's attention allowing us time to escape. I rushed the girls through the checkout and out to my car.

Oooooooooooo

We hurried to the car in silence, Angie was quiet but I could see she was scanning her surroundings and when we got into my car and closed the door she let out a big sigh. She looked at Mary Alice and they gave each other a high five.

"What, what is it? What was that about back there, with little Wednesday Aadams?" I had to know.

"A strategy we learned at Rangeman, and it worked." The worry melted from Angie's face and she seemed almost giddy, I started the car and pulled from the lot.

"Tell me more about this strategy." I said.

"Well, the first step to defeating a bully is to refuse to be the target. Ranger explained it's kind of like a cat and a dog. When a cat sees a dog and runs, the dog chases the cat; but when a cat sees a dog and puffs up his tail, and hisses and makes a fuss, the dog figures it's not worth the trouble and leaves the cat alone," said Angie.

"It all started when we went to Rangeman. In the video about the Special Forces, it said in the Army, and all branches of military, they have a set of rules they live by, a code. And that your life is much easier when you live by a code because you always know what to do in any situation." said Angie.

"So, sort of like the Girl Scout Promise?" I asked?

"Exactly," She said.

"So on Tuesday, the day I got blindsided by Josie, and I had all that time in Sister Camilla's office, I was supposed to be in there thinking about my "actions," she said sarcastically, adding little air quotes with her fingers. But all I could think of was what Ranger had told me, so I took out some paper and started writing, and the first thing I wrote was 'I refuse to be a target.'"

I remembered now, when we'd picked up Angie from the office on Tuesday, she'd handed Ranger a paper and he'd looked at it and nodded his approval.

"Wow, I.. That's… well I just never thought…" I didn't know what to say.

"I'm so proud of you, Angie," I said, and I meant it.

She just looked at me and smiled. She was so different from the girl I picked up from school five days ago. Then I thought about Ranger. Now I knew what he was trying to tell me on Monday, when he'd held me back from rescuing Angie from the bullies and told me 'that's not the way to do it."

I guess, it was much the same way he helped me when I first tried to bring in Morelli, he helped me, but he sort of made it seem like I was doing it on my own. And he never took credit for any of my successes, unlike Joe, who had joked to everyone who would listen about how he had _let_ me bring him in when he was FTA.

We were almost to the house and my mind was going off on a little tangent, I thought about the cute-with-kids, laundry-folding, table-setting Ranger and a little fairy tale started brewing, one that I'd envisioned years ago starring me and Ranger… but the girls were demanding something in my ear and the spell was broken and I was jolted back to reality.

"Well, can we, Aunt Steff?" they were asking.

"Can we what?" I asked, as I got out of the car and started to hand the girls their backpacks and grocery bags.

"Can we call him?"

"Who, him?" I was confused.

"Ranger," said Angie, "I want to tell him about Josie, besides, since we didn't go to Rangeman after school, we need to talk to him about our mission."

"No,"

"Why not?" pleaded Angie, puzzled by my firm answer?

"Well, he's busy, he has a job, we just can't…" now I had a dilemma, kids just didn't understand these adult situation and whatever I said would sound petty and stupid.

"But he told us we could call him any time, and besides, he needs us, for Friday."

"What about Friday?" now _I_ was curious.

Angie cupped her hand over Mary Alice's mouth and gave her a stern look, "We can't tell you, it's a secret," she said definitively.

I thought about the girls calling Ranger. I wasn't sure why this was embarrassing to me. Maybe it was because Ranger had said things that indicated he didn't have time in his life for relationships, and by extension, children. I guess I was afraid he might be put-off if he were bothered by other people's kids. Besides, he was just trying to make them feel better, there really wasn't some secret mission, was there? Yet, he had been very sweet with them, helping me when I needed it. And if Ranger said they could call him, he meant it; he didn't throw around blank statements and invitations very often. And truthfully, I was hoping to eaves drop on the conversation and learn more about this possible mystery mission for Friday, just in case it required me to shave my legs or something.

We got in the house and started unpacking the groceries and I told the girls to get out their homework. They both sat at the dining room table and I dialed Ranger's number and handed Angie the phone. I tried to act busy in the kitchen, but my eyes were on her the entire time. I knew he would answer shortly and in a moment her eyes widened a bit and Angie cleared her throat, all business like.

"Um, hello, may I please speak with Mr. Manoso?" I had to tamp down a chuckle, imagining Ranger in a meeting with the guys receiving this call.

"Yes, this is Angie Kloughn, well Plum, really." There was a little pause while Angie listened to him speaking.

"Oh, no we're fine, she's right here making dinner," she paused again, nodded her head, then she giggled.

"I wanted to tell you about what happened in the store today," another short pause.

"We were at Lotta Food Mart, and Josie was there, and I did exactly what we talked about, no eye contact, I ignored her, like she wasn't even there, she didn't say anything, and I wasn't scared and I just wanted to say, 'thank you,' for your help, I'm so glad I listened to you.'" My chest got a warm tingly feeling, and I gazed at my niece with pride. I could just make out the rise and fall of Ranger's voice coming over the phone as Angie listened intently, her eyes darted around in space visualizing whatever it was he was saying, little smiles forming on her lips now and then. This had to be one of the longest calls in Ranger history. Finally I heard her speak.

"Yes, I can do that, Mary Alice, yes, she's here." Angie held out the phone for her sister. Mary Alice galloped over and took the device and put it to her ear.

"Sarge?" Again Ranger's voice sounded like a muffle, I realized I'd chopped every vegetable in the kitchen, so I stepped closer hoping to make out what he was saying. Mary Alice was nodding in recognition,

"Check," more muffled instructions.

"Roger, Ranger," she had a big smile on her face now, and again there was a pause.

"We are finishing our homework and Aunt Steffie's cooking, apparently your security systems doesn't work too good, cause somebody came in and took away all of Grandma Helen's food she left for us, even the frozen stuff." I laughed at her remark and I heard Ranger laugh from the end of the phone. "So, I'm thinking," continued Mary Alice, "you should come over and fix our security system and when you're finished you can stay for dinner." Now, I wasn't laughing, and I gasped and gave Mary Alice the universal, cut across the throat sign, hoping she would rescind the invitation. I was shaking my head frantically side to side staring wide eyed at Mary Alice.

"Hold on, Sarge, I think Aunt Steffie is choking, she is shaking her head and waving her finger at her neck and her face is red." I cringed and put my fisted hands on the top of my head like I was pulling on an invisible stocking cap,

"I'm not choking, "I quietly hissed, "just, tell him he's probably too busy, and you'll see him tomorrow after school at Rangeman."

Mary Alice relayed the message over the phone, said goodbye and hung up.

"Whew, that was a close one," I whispered.

"So, what did he say when you told him not to come?" I asked.

"He said thank you for the invitation and he'll be here at seven thirty."

ooooooooooooo

By seven o'clock the Ribollita was simmering on the stove, the peanut butter and celery was set on a plate under saran wrap and the salad was in the bowl ready to toss. I'd sent the girls up to their rooms to lay out clothes for tomorrow, and change into their pajamas so they would be ready for bed. I jumped in the shower but didn't have tome to wash my hair, I did, however use some flowery body wash I'd gotten in a sample bag at the Macy's perfume counter. The scent was light and airy and I felt revived as I toweled off in Val's room. I dug in my bag and came up with a navy and white striped scoop-necked jersey dress from Land's End. The dress was long and clingy though I thought my behind looked a little large in it, but I didn't have lots of options. The dress was comfy and soft and could double as a nightgown. I toed into my fuzzy blue slippers and went downstairs to check on the stew.

I heard the back door latch and looked back in time to see Ranger walking in, he was wearing his Rangeman black, minus the utility belt and he was carrying a bag from Critter Corral. I chuckled aloud when I saw him carrying the hot pink sparkly bag with the cartoon chameleon on the side. Somehow I could envision Ranger walking into the Pet Pavilion, and asking for a black leather spiked dog collar sized for a Rottweiler, but I couldn't wrap my head around him at the Critter Corral, ambling down the aisles, dressed like the Terminator, reading the nutritional information on a box of Mouse Doodles.

"Whatcha got there," I ask, straining my neck forward to try to peak in the bag.

"Ha, none of your business, this is not _for_ you, nosey." He tied the bad closed and sat it atop the refrigerator and I caught his eyes oogling my behind. He looked around then he lowered his voice,

"but _this_ is for you."

He closed the gap between us and took the dishtowel out of my hand and set it on the counter. Then he snaked his arms around my back and bowed his head down to meet me. He had a little smile on his face as he pressed his lips into mine. I couldn't help but close my eyes as he planted soft kisses on my lips waiting for me to allow him access. His hands went to my butt and he gripped both cheeks like he was holding two cantaloupes in his splayed fingers.

MMMmm, I like my gift better, I thought. I forgot myself and slid my hands up behind his head and combed my fingers into his hair, I tilted my head and opened my mouth a bit and I could feel the wetness of his tongue as it slid between my lips. I remember the things he could do with that tongue, and a little fire started to burn. My eyes were closed when he pulled away from me, but I didn't open them, I was holding onto my mind's vision of fairy tale Ranger kissing me like that every day before suiting up in his coat of armor and galloping off on a black stallion. I came to my senses and reminded myself that I was on the Sister Camilla Chastity Express till Friday at nine-o-one a.m.

"You really need to stop doing that," I said with my eyes closed.

"I wouldn't have stopped, but the girls are coming down the stairs."

And sure enough, I opened my eyes and Angie and Mary Alice rounded the stairs and walked back toward the kitchen. When Angie saw us standing so close she got a suspicious look on her face.

"Were you kissing again?"

"Who me?" I defied, "Eeeeewww, yuck, boys are icky!" I said. Ranger reached behind me and stealthily pinched my butt cheek. I turned back to the sink and strategically jabbed him in the ribs.

Ranger reached up and retrieved the bag from the frig and set it on the breakfast bar counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room. He looked at Angie and Mary Alice,

"See if you can find something to do with these," he said, pointing to the bag.

The girls raced for the bag and had the contents out in seconds. Two boxes were being opened. And the girls squealed when they saw the contents. Two little racecars, fitted with critter exercise wheels, one red, and one blue, both with racing stripes.

"Bobby Blattner has one of these," yelled Angie, "he brought it to school with his gerbil! Awesome! The little wheel makes the car go!"

Ranger leaned against the counter next to me and tried not to smile as he took in the scene of the girls laughing and talking about the new toys. There was a flurry of paper and packaging being discarded, then the sound of plastic sliding on the countertop. Angie was reading the directions and Mary Alice was picking up the pieces, trying to figure out how they fit together. Ranger turned his head a little toward me and said softly,

"I thought Rex and Richard might like to race."

"Of course you did." I feigned a disapproving glare, fire and wheels tend to bring out the Neanderthal in all men. "I'm gonna tell you right now, there is no way _Richard_ is gonna beat _Rex_, he's an Olympic wheel runner."

"I don't know Babe, that little mouse has grit, he survived a python. Do you wanna wager on it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow?

"A bet, gambling?" Hmm, bets and deals with Ranger weren't without certain perks, even when I'd lose.

"Depends on the stakes," I said.

"Friday after dinner, looser has to say 'yes.'" He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes.

"Looser has to say 'yes' to what?" I asked.

"Whatever," he answered. No way I could go wrong, I thought.

"You're on?"

oooooooooooooooooo

I sat on the floor and pounded my palms to my forehead. "Awww, come on," I begged, "best four out of seven, it'll be like the World Series of rodent races!"

"No can do, Babe, I've already given you best of five. And we've upped the stakes to two 'yesses'" he said under his breath, "sometimes you just have to know when your whipped and admit defeat."

I looked at Rex and sighed. It really wasn't for lack of effort; he had run like a champ, in the wrong direction, twice. And when he did go the right way, he got going so fast he veered to one side of the wheel and curved in a big circle. Richard, on the other hand, ran even and steady and didn't even seem to be winded; in fact he looked very relaxed, very much like his namesake.

I hung my head and conceded the loss to Ranger, who, at least wasn't outwardly gloating. The girls put Rex and Richard back in their cages and we all washed our hands and sat down to dinner. We served up the soup and salad and Mary Alice passed around the celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins. I was about to take a bite when Angie cleared her throat. She grabbed Mary Alice, and my hands, and motioned for us to do the same, and then she closed her eyes. Ranger took my hand under the table and gave it a little squeeze. I took this opportunity to hold his index and ring finger together and compare to see if the Korean study was true, I rubbed my fingers over the tips, dead even. I peaked at him out of my left eye and he gave me a knowing wolf grin.

"Bless us O Lord.." Angie started and we all joined in "for these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ Our Lord, Amen." Ranger squeezed my hand again on the "Amen." I held my breath a bit when Ranger took his soup spoon and tasted the Ribollita,

"Umm Babe, it's good. This reminds me of Sopa de Ajo, my grandmother used to make it for us, and it was always a little different ever time she made it."

After everyone started eating, Ranger turned to Angie, "Angela, I'm curious, what made you write that note on Tuesday?"

She seemed a little embarrassed, but she cleared her throat and spoke, "Well, I'd had time to think, when I was in Sister Camilla's office, and I thought how unfair it was for Josie to be free, in class, while I was being punished. And I remembered the Special Forces video, so I just wrote down what was on my mind."

Mary Alice interrupted, "Yeah, just like Martin Luther King and his letters from the Burning Ham Jail!"

Ranger fought the urge to smile, then turned back to Angie, "When I was in Ranger School, you know, we spent most of our time learning how to avoid fights. For example, when I enter a room, the first thing I do is identify the exit, then I go through every possible scenario in my mind and visualize how I could get out of it without using force. I've become so used to preparing for any situation, it becomes automatic, I forget I'm doing it."

"Upstairs," said Angie, "what would you do if you were upstairs and a wild tiger came after you?"

Ranger looked back at Angie, "I know what _I_ would do; where would _you_ go and what would _you_ do?"

Angie thought about it for a moment, "If I could get down the hallway, I'd go into my mom's room and go out the window to the fire escape."

"What if you're in your sister's room." he asked.

"Her window is a short drop to the awning over the front door, I could lower myself down and at least wave for help." she said.

"Your room?" he quizzed.

"I have a rope ladder in my closet. I'd push the dresser in front of the door to give me time to use it."

"Just like Spiderman," said Mary Alice.

"Speaking of Spiderman," I said, trying to change the subject, "Where does Spiderman check his e-mail?"

"On the World Wide Webb!" they all answered.

Mary Alice spoke up, "Ranger, what did one math book say to the other?"

Ranger looked at Mary Alice and shook his head, "don't know, but I bet you're gonna tell me."

Mary Alice smiled as she answered, "I've got problems." Ranger grinned and almost rolled his eyes.

"Aunt Steffie, what did zero say to eight?"

"What _did_ zero say to eight," I repeated.

"Nice belt."

"Ha, oh I love that one, it's too cute." I said.

"Okay, I've got one, why couldn't Batman go fishing?" I looked at Ranger and smiled. He gave his head a little shake.

"Tell me Babe."

"Because Robin ate all the worms." Awwww, yuck, said Angie. Mary Alice giggled.

Ranger, it's your turn, you have to tell a joke, I bet you know lots of jokes from Lester, you probably heard some good jokes in the Army.

"Alright," he paused, thinking. "Your Aunt Stephanie walks into a library," Mary Alice clapped and squealed at the mention of my name, the look on her face was a smile of pure joy as she stared at Ranger in anticipation,

"She walks up to the woman at the counter and says, 'I'd like a cheeseburger and French fries please.' The woman looks at your aunt and says, 'Mam, do you know you're in a Library?', 'Oh, excuse me, says Aunt Stephanie,'" then Ranger whispered, "'I'd like a cheeseburger and French fries please.'"

I rolled my eyes and smiled and the girls laughed and pointed at me. His long legs were stretched out under the table and I dug my heel into his foot. Without moving a muscle of his upper body he caught my foot between his ankles and held it there, all the while holding a conversation with the oblivious Angie and Mary Alice.

Ranger gave me a little smirk, released my foot, and then he got up and started clearing the table. I started putting the food away and Angie went to the sink to rinse the dishes.

"Ranger, when do we get to see the you-know-what?" asked Mary Alice. Angie turned to her and gave her a stern glare, reminding her not to reveal the plan.

"I was thinking I could pick you up from school tomorrow, then we could stop by the top-secret training facility, then I'd bring you back to your Aunt at Rangeman.

Angie and Mary Alice started clapping and jumping up and down.

I leaned over to Ranger while the girls did their happy dance, "Seriously, what are you planning for Friday, fancy or casual, up do or ponytail, flats or heels?"

"Babe, the girls and I have a chain of command going here, you're a Civvie, you can't just come in here and bust it up, demanding our classified information."

Angie and Mary Alice turned on me scowling, somewhere along the line, I'd lost their allegiance and they'd become his minions.

"Oh, is that so, I'm a Civvie, huh?" now my curiosity was peaking and I lifted both eyebrows waiting for his answer.

"Babe, you're being nosey again, we're sworn to secrecy,"

He was enjoying all the secrecy and I was getting a little pissed, and maybe just a tad jealous, but I should have known I could count on Mary Alice, she looked at me and said, in all seriousness,

"Don't worry, Aunt Steffie, we'll be back in plenty of time tomorrow, so we can get home and you can have your date with that man from the store, right Ranger?"

Ranger's face fell flat; he'd been caught in his own trap.

"It's not really a date," I shrugged. "We're just having dinner at Val's house is all."

But that's what you told him, you said 'it's a date,'" said Mary Alice, "I heard you."

"Yeah," piped Angie, "you told him, 'Alright, then, it's a date.'" Angie lifted her hands and made the little air quote signal around that last phrase. Now Ranger was completely unreadable.

"It's really not a date," I looked at Ranger, "but yes, thank you, you can pick up the girls from school, and it sounds like you have some unfinished business, and me, being a Civvie and all, you wouldn't want me around fouling your plans for world domination or whatever it is you have up your sleeve. I'll just be at Rangeman working till you arrive."

Ranger thought for a moment then he chose his words, "better yet, why don't the girls have dinner at Rangeman tomorrow and I'll bring them home, say seven thirty?" He was playing dirty by asking in front of the girls. And, of course, he would be bringing them home smack-dab in the middle of my suspected date, so he can nose into my suspected romance, with my suspected stud-muffin. I could have put Ranger's mind at ease right then and there by telling him the mystery man was Manuel Vivanco, his childhood buddy, but the Italian part of me, the part that stun-gunned Joe and Angelia, and the part that discarded the casserole popsicles from Val's freezer, gleaned some twisted satisfaction from making him wonder.

"Sounds good," I agreed.

Ranger turned, hiding any dissatisfaction, and gave the girls a 'thumbs up" signal.

"Your Aunt agrees, I'll pick you up tomorrow after school."

"Ranger," asked Mary Alice, "do you think you will be driving your 'Porch,' cause Ryan Busiac said I was probably making up stories again, and he said I didn't know anybody with a 'Porch,' and I had probably confused your car with a black Miata." Ranger had a look of thorough amusement. I had once driven a red Miata, and I thought it was a pretty cool car, but not cool enough for Ranger, and as much as I wished it were true, no one ever confused my Miata for a 911 Porsche Turbo.

"Turbo, no Miata, got it," he nodded.

Angie gave Ranger a fist bump, and then Mary Alice walked over to Ranger and hugged him around the legs before turning and marching up the stairs. I shook my head and shooed them up the stairs, making sure they brushed their teeth and had their clothes ready to go for tomorrow.

I walked back to the living room and half-expected Ranger to be gone, but instead, Ranger had a bottle of red wine on the coffee table and he handed me a glass as I walked past him to finish some imaginary tasks in the kitchen. He rose from the sofa and followed me,

"Babe, who's coming over tomorrow night?"

"Now who's being nosey?" I gave him a look.

He was fishing for information, and as crazy as I was about him, as much as I wanted to be his everything, he hadn't earned the privilege of full disclosure. If he really wanted me, he was gonna have to come big, or stay on the porch. He was being the alpha male, sniffing around to see if another dog was on his turf, but far as I figured, he hadn't marked his territory just yet. He'd just passed through my garden and peed on a shrub or two, and that wasn't enough to warrant possessive pronouns like "my" and "mine."


End file.
